Willow and Tara's Sin City
by OriginalAlcy
Summary: Tara Maclay is a tough cop who has just one night left in Sin City before she gets the hell out. However, as Tara waits in the rain for the night to be over she doesn't know that this will be the night that her life changes forever...all because of a kid by the name of Willow Rosenberg. Based on Frank Miller's comics, Willow/Tara (extremely) AU.
1. Little Willow Rosenberg

**A/N:** This is a finished fic which I am re-editing and re-posting so expect updates every few days. It is based on Frank Miller's ultra violent noir comic books, borrowing some plot elements from his stories "That Yellow Bastard" and, to a lesser extent, "The Big Fat Kill" and then weaving them with my own.

Tara's voiceovers are in **bold text**

**Disclaimers:** A warning before you read, please note that this fic is very **AU**. There are no pancakes in bellies, floating roses or live kittens. It contains graphic language, violence and sex. In other words, it's not very nice. If you're game, read on.

* * *

**Chapter One  
****Little Willow Rosenberg**

**There are some things in life you can't change. You're born, you live and you die. And then there are some things that you have to try your damndest to change. Then you'll know that no matter what the cost, even if you happen to die along the way, it was worth it. **

**Tonight is special. It's my last night in the hellhole known as Basin City. Tomorrow I'll be winging my way to a new posting in New York City. A paradise compared to this place. One more night...**

The rain continued to piss down without a single lull. The narrow ledge under which the two cops stood afforded little protection from the harshness of the elements. They were both soaked to the bone and becoming increasingly irritable.

Detective Tara Maclay tugged up the collar of her coat in a vain attempt to try and keep at least a little of the water from snaking down her neck. It hardly helped. Unable to stand still for more than a minute, she paced several steps to the right, several steps to the left. With each step she great increasingly wetter, if that were even possible. Her features were difficult to make out in the darkness but her jaw was strong; skin pale and unblemished; lips rich, red and full and eyes burning with sapphire coloured intensity. Her dirty blond hair hung in wet strands down over her shoulders. She had turned the collar of her long, leather coat up but the rain found some way to run down the back of her neck.

Her partner, Seamus O'Hara, lent against the graffiti covered wall behind them. He was a big, fat useless piece of shit that hadn't moved a muscle for the past half an hour except to feverishly light cigarettes. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, a look of utter resentment frozen on his already crabby features. It was clear that he did not want to be there. It was Tara's last night, so she couldn't care less what O'Hara did.

Even so, it was a shit night...and it was shaping up to get even worse.

"The informant was bogus, if there was any crack being shipped out of here tonight we would've seen something. We've been sulking around here for two hours in this fuckin' rain and I'm as dry as a nun's cunt," O'Hara rasped in the whiny voice he used when he really wanted something.

"Well they probably heard you fart and knew we were sniffing around," Tara growled. "Something definitely doesn't smell right tonight."

"You watch your trap Maclay!" O'Hara snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Tell you what, let's knock off and head over to Kitty's. Have you seen that new girl?"

Tara couldn't be bothered with his shit tonight. She barely acknowledged his question with a slight shrug. She continued pacing the same route she had for the last two hours...to the dumpster and back. All manner of rubbish and filth gave way beneath her feet, Basin City was a city of endless filth. Tara took one last drag on her cigarette and cast it to the ground.

O'Hara didn't seem to care that Tara refused to be drawn into his conversation and continued talking all the same, "She's a real piece o' meat that one, I'd crawl over glass to fuck her...bet you would too."

O'Hara looked sideways at Tara to see if he had provoked a reaction. Tara just fumbled in her pocket for another cigarette and it was not until O'Hara thought he had been completely ignored that she replied.

"I wouldn't crawl over glass for my own mother...god rest her soul," Tara spoke in a monotone, her voice reflected her mood, as her face was momentarily illuminated by the glow of her lighter. "And I most certainly don't have to crawl over glass to get laid."

O'Hara snorted disdainfully. "Fuckin' dykes get all the pussy."

"It's cos I know how to treat a woman right." _You ugly sack of shit._

Tara gave O'Hara a piercing glance from the corner of her eye. He wouldn't know how to treat a woman right if someone gave him a dummies handbook. She had never liked the rotund cop in fact she despised him. As far as partners went, he was really scraping the bottom of the barrel. There was nothing to be done about it. Corrupt, rotten to the core cops were the norm in Sin City. Tara was one of the rare exceptions.

_"You're on a fast track to an early grave, Maclay," her first partner had told her, first day on the job. _

_"Don't really want to hang around in this city anyway," was Tara's all too honest reply._

In Tara's opinion, there were hardly any sparks of hope in all of Basin City. It was depressing to say the least, to live in a town where even the victims were lowlife scum not worth saving. It was a rotten, shitty existence akin to being sentenced to hell on earth.

A small shape moved in the darkness across the road and both cops glanced over. Tara peered through the gloom and tried to make it out. It was only when the shape moved closer that she saw it was a kid. A really small kid shrouded in an oversized rain jacket.

Tara liked kids. Somewhat of a contradiction for the tough as nails cop who appeared not to give a damn about anything. There was something about their innocence that meant there was hope for the future of Basin City. There was still room for improvement, for them to learn and grow into something other than a dirty, rotten crook or a whore. Whereas the criminals Tara usually dealt with were fit for nothing except a long stint in jail. With kids...there was hope.

As such, Tara volunteered to speak to schools whenever someone was needed for an educational talk. Tara hated the thought of someone like O'Hara lecturing kids on morality and how to be a good citizen...what a crock.

The kid turned its head slightly and Tara saw a flash of white skin and red hair. A shiver ran down Tara's spine. She recognised the kid instantly.

In all her school visits, one kid stood out. Bright where the others were stupid, and interested where the others were bored and only asked to see her gun. Red-haired, little Willow Rosenberg. She was a skinny kid with nothing much to her except a whole lot of light shinning right out of her little face. That was one kid Tara wouldn't forget for the rest of her life. The only question was, what the hell was she doing out all alone on a night like this?

Tara's foot twitched in preparation for a step forward. As she was about to move across the road to catch-up with the kid a black Merc glided passed the two detectives skulking in the shadows and drew to a smooth halt just beside young Willow. The next thing she noticed was the license plate, Tara stopped in her tracks.

**TALBOT**

That name sent a shiver down her spine as she read the plate. Everyone who lived in Basin City knew that name and to ignore it was folly. Madame Glory Talbot ran the most exclusive brothel in town. However the establishment was so much more than that. Not only was it a den of vice, filth and immorality, half of the town's drug deals; murders and embezzlement could be traced to that place. Through its doors passed the city's most influential, most crooked and vilest inhabitants. Madame Talbot magnified her customers' traits tenfold. Everything about her was artificial, from her bronze hair to her huge lips. Everyone knew that dame was a real piece of work.

The car door swung open just ahead of Willow and out stepped exactly who Tara expected. The young man that emerged tossed his shoulder length hair with a practised arrogance. He turned his head slightly and Tara saw his profile, delicate, pointed features that belonged on someone much younger and far less of a monster.

Tommy Talbot. A sweet sounding name...for a devil child.

A second man stepped from the drivers' door and moved around the car to open up an umbrella over Tommy's head, partially obscuring him from Tara's view. Tara growled low in her throat. Just as everyone knew what kind of woman his mother was, they also knew what kind of man Tommy was...or rather wasn't. Tommy liked them young and pretty, the younger the better. He used them like toys and disposed of the evidence with little remorse. Tara had been aching for years to be able to pin something on him but the evidence was never there.

**The thought of red-haired, little Willow Rosenberg in the hands of that child-molesting monster is making my blood boil. She's just eleven - a cute as a button kid with this stringy red hair and huge green eyes that seem to fill her whole face. Willow is a good kid. There is no way that she deserves anything that monster will do to her, she's never done a thing in her life. It's always the innocent ones that get hurt and I hate it when that happens. I didn't care that he was the son of that bitch and that the other cops left him alone because of it. If he was going to hurt Willow in any way, I was going to make him unrecognisable even to his own mother.**

O'Hara was not completely stupid. He saw everything from the black Merc, Tommy Talbot stepping out and the determined set of his partners jaw. He knew that this was just the kind of shit she would get herself involved in and damn the consequences. O'Hara had a feeling this bitch was going to get him killed.

"So, do you want to knock off or what?" O'Hara interrupted Tara's concentration on the scene unfolding before her. "Kitty's will be just warming up. First one's on me, anything you want."

Tara ignored him a though he were a fire hydrant squatting on the pavement. Instead her eyes were riveted on the car, its occupants and the little girl across the street. She could not hear what they were saying but Tara could more or less guess the sickeningly sweet honey dripping from Talbot's lips as he tried to entice Willow into the car. Whatever he said had obviously not won her over as she attempted to make a sudden dash for freedom. Talbot immediately reacted, reaching out to grab the scruff of her coat. He hauled the helpless girl back to him even as she continued to lash out with her hands and feet.

It was the last straw for Tara, she reached within her coat and withdrew badge in order to display it clearly at the band of her pants. Both her pistols pressed into the middle of her back in their special, customised holsters with their handles facing downwards for quick draw. Their lack of visibility gave her the advantage of appearing unprepared and slow to react. She heard O'Hara whine desperately behind her and she suppressed the urge to turn around and shoot him in the kneecap.

"Tara, it's none of our business, let's get out of here!" he hissed, drawing further back into the shadows.

**He's a fucking moron and I won't do him the courtesy of replying to the garbage that's spewing out of his mouth. I don't know if anyone else in this town cares, but this is my job...and what's more, it's **_**right!**_

Tara stepped out into the streetlight, her coat billowing around her as she strode purposefully across the street. Her boots slammed into each puddle with all the ferocity of her walk. Even as rain streamed down her face, Tara meticulously surveyed the scene in front of her. Talbot was on the far side of the car, partially illuminated in the glare of its headlamps. He had Willow by her elbow, refusing to let her go as he continued to speak to her.

**Good girl, just keep him talking and we'll have this sorted out in no time...**

Talbot was undoubtedly carrying a pistol beneath the expensive leather coat he wore. Talbot's henchman was just behind him, still trying to shelter his boss with the umbrella. There was no doubt a hefty weapon was packed inside the holster beneath his coat as well. The Merc's windows were tinted and Tara could see nothing except her own reflection; a cloaked angel of death striding towards the car. There would be at least another one of them still inside, although she knew she ought to expect two. Tara pictured them now, clad in Black Armani and feeling for their own pistols as they watched her approach. She didn't like the odds. For a moment Tara wished she could count on O'Hara to back her up but the fat son of a bitch was probably long gone.

The umbrella holder spun around when he saw Tara, his face morphing into a threatening growl that clearly indicated that to move closer meant risking death. It was an expression that Tara gave exactly the same consideration she'd just given O'Hara...almost none. Talbot had seen her as well but he didn't relinquish his grip on little Willow in the slightest. Tara bristled at the brazenness of it all. They knew full well they were the law.

"Move along bitch, nothing to see here," the henchman growled.

Tara came to a halt just a few metres away from him. She kept one eye on both the car doors. With a casual flick, she pushed back her coat and rested her hand on the band of her pants, revealing her badge to all assembled. Both the henchman and Talbot smirked.

"Surely you don't want to go around flashing a little piece of metal like that," Talbot laughed, hauling Willow around in front of him. "What...you want money? A bribe? Bit short of cash to supply your drug habit?"

Tara searched out Willow's face. The girl was terrified, her green eyes staring wide and pleading silently for Tara to help her. It was then that Tara noticed the little stuffed animal she clutched in her free hand. Where had she been going at this time of night with just the toy to keep her company?

"Cut the bullshit Tommy, it's not going to work with me," Tara replied calmly.

Willow tried to run towards Tara but Talbot switched his grip from her elbow to her hair. He jerked her backwards and she cried out in pain and fright.

"I don't believe it, a wannabe hero cop. Who might I have the privilege of addressing?" Talbot drawled mockingly.

"Maclay," Tara replied gruffly, her patience was wearing thin. They were just stalling for time by keeping her talking. "Let the girl go little man and I might consider letting you go with your balls intact."

The umbrella-carrying henchman shifted, purposely revealing the holster beneath his arm. Tara merely smiled lazily. Her casual air did not betray the state of tense alertness she was actually feeling. She watched the car for any sign of movement. There it was, the passenger door closest to her opened with a barely audible click. The sound almost drowned out in the rain but Tara both saw and heard it. She'd had enough of pussy footing around. They expected her to run away with her tail between her legs...what they were going to get was judgement!

In one fluid movement Tara reached both hands up into her coat and slid the twin Beretta's from their holsters, metal and leather were as smooth as silk. Both guns were out from beneath her coat and dealing out their deadly payloads in a mere split second. Arm as steady as steel, Tara fired into the narrow crack created as the passenger door opened. As soon as she had started to go for her weapons, the driver had urgently fumbled for his own pistol. He was levelling it in her direction when her bullet slammed into his forehead. The umbrella clattered to the sidewalk. Tara then brought both guns to bear directly on Talbot as the passenger door opened and a suited body slid partially out onto the pavement, a gun landed in the gutter. She was pleased to see that Talbot's face had gone a sickly white.

"I think you'll be driving yourself home tonight Tommy...minus your entertainment!' Tara hissed, she was all too acutely aware of the fact that she was soaked to the bone and freezing, it time to get this over and done with. "Now hand her over before you get one too!"

"All this for a fucking kid?" Talbot demanded in a shrill voice as he glanced down at his dead driver.

Rather than release Willow, he picked her up with one hand. He now held the kid as a shield in front of him, betting on the fact that Tara cared too much about her to shoot him and risk hitting her. Tara's jaw tightened, the son of a bitch was going to do this the hard way. Even now she could see his free hand twitching slightly. Tara guessed his pistol was tucked in the band of his pants. She grew even angrier if that was possible. He was deliberately putting Willow in the firing line and in terrible danger of being hit in a resulting cascade of gunfire.

**I could tell he was gonna be stupid about it. Psychos always go that little bit too far...they never know when to call it quits. And this guy is used to getting his own way.**

"I'm prepared to go even further," Tara replied, not phased in the slightest by the bodies lying in the rain, and trying not to be phased by little Willow being used as a human shield. "Are you?"

Talbot answered Tara by reaching for his gun. In his haste he wasn't nearly smooth enough and brought his gun hand out too far from his body. In a heartbeat Tara fired a single shot with precision. The bullet took his hand off at the wrist and hand and gun fell to the pavement. Talbot stared at his bloody stump for a few seconds before his mind connected with what his eyes were seeing. He finally screamed in pain and dropped Willow, the kid falling hard on the pavement. To her credit she didn't fall apart into a blubbering mess. She scrambled to her feet and ran to Tara's side, deciding that the safest place for her to be was holding Tara's coat.

"Willow, run over to that stoop there," Tara indicated it with a nod of her head. "Crouch down behind the pillar, don't move for anything! Not until I say so." She pulled her cell phone awkwardly from her pocket and handed it to the kid. "You know how to dial 111?"

Willow nodded eagerly and took the phone. Tara watched her from the corner of her eye until she was safely hidden. A few seconds later, a white face peered out from behind the pillar as Willow looked anxiously to Tara.

"Willow! What did I say?" Tara growled firmly, this was no playground.

The red hair disappeared back behind the pillar and Tara was able to concentrate all her attention on Talbot without worrying about the kid. In the few seconds that her attention had been diverted, Talbot had struggled back to his feet and had pried his weapon from his fallen hand. He stood trembling with his wounded stump tucked beneath his arm. Tara felt the strange urge to laugh at such a macabre sight. A split second later and the bloodied weapon fired in her direction. Talbot's aim was poor and the bullet merely grazed her shoulder. Tara grunted slightly, feeling its sting but she responded brutally by hitting both his kneecaps with a single shot from each weapon. Talbot screamed and collapsed to the ground as though he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. The gun fell from his hand and he lay bleeding in the rain.

"You bitch, you fucking bitch!" he screamed, spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth full of gritted teeth.

Tara calmly walked over to his side and with a firm nudge of her toe, sent the gun into the gutter where it was instantly swallowed up by the storm water. Against her better judgement, she was far from finished with Talbot. She holstered one of her Berettas and kept one at hand. Kneeling down in the street, Tara reached out and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. He had lost a lot of blood and his face was a ghastly white. Tara was hoping he bled to death in the rain.

"I'm the fucking bitch?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "What about you, you sick bastard. How many girls has it been now? Twenty...more? All under the age of twelve for god's sake!"

She slammed him over the head with the butt of her gun and blood ran from the wound.

He coughed, the burning ferocity in his eyes not diminished by his wounds. "More than you'll ever know, Maclay...and none that you'll be able to link back to me! Does that make you feel good you piece of shit cop?"

Tara placed the cool barrel of her weapon against his temple with every intention of blowing his brains out. The angel had had enough...and he had it coming to him.

Someone else fired and it was not Talbot they hit. Tara felt an aching cold radiate out from her lower back, down through her legs and up through her chest. She glanced down and saw a hole in her leather coat.

**Damn...**

Tara wasn't about to give up that easily. She rolled to one side and twisted, bringing her Beretta up to fire at the rotten snake that had shot her in the back. Bang! Another bullet slammed into her left shoulder and sent her sprawling back against the pavement. Through the rain she saw a figure with a smoking gun still pointed at her. It began to walk forward.

Tara let out a hoarse laugh when she saw who it was. That fat son of bitch, O'Hara. He'd finally chosen to do something that took a little bit of guts and he'd chosen to shoot his own partner in the back. As far as Tara was concerned, a cop couldn't sink any lower.

"Drop the Beretta, Maclay," O'Hara barked, trying to make his whiny voice sound commanding.

"I've got a better idea," Tara said as she began to lift her gun, even though she knew she'd never be fast enough.

Bang! Bang! Tara saw O'Hara's gun kick twice in rapid succession and felt searing pain in her right shoulder and chest. Again she was knocked flat and this time could not rise again. As she lay flat on her back she finally let go of the gun. Somewhere a little girl was screaming. O'Hara advanced, keeping his gun trained on her even though she was well and truly down. Tara remained absolutely still, staring up at the raindrops illuminated in the streetlight as they fell down to earth.

"Should've taken up my offer of a drink...but you had to be the hero," O'Hara was basking in his power over her.

Somewhere in the distance sirens blared. They were coming closer. Tara knew Willow had called and they were on their way. Tara coughed violently and felt a trickle of warm blood flow from her mouth. The rain quickly washed it away.

"You can't win against them you know, I've always known but you were always too pigheaded to accept it," he continued. "There was no way I was gonna let you get me killed Maclay, no friggin' way."

"There's always a day of judgement," Tara whispered as the sirens grew even louder.

**Good kid...nothing can happen to her now. She'll be fine and with any luck I'll be dead. Wish like hell I could've taken both these bastards with me...O'Hara and Talbot...**

Tara was freezing; her eyelids grew heavy. Before they finally closed shut she saw a little face hovering over her. Little Willow Rosenberg. Tara tried to smile.

**You'll be fine kid...**

* * *

**It was just my luck that I didn't die, although with four slugs in me I wasn't in good shape and damn near did. The doctors slaved over my bullet-riddled body for twelve hours and even got my heart ticking again after I flat lined. So I'm awake and lying in this hospital bed, knowing full well that they didn't go all out to save me out of the good of their hearts. **_**She**_** had them do it.**

Glory Talbot stood at the end of the bed, her eyes fixed on the half-dead cop lying beneath the pristine white sheets at the private hospital she'd paid for. She wanted Tara to know exactly who was behind her top of the line treatment and care. She talked and Tara did her best to let the machines monitoring her condition down out her brazen drawl.

"If you're wondering why I'm taking such good care of someone who almost killed my little boy then I'm going to tell you." She was at the end of the bed, both hands placed on the railing as she lent forward like some immaculately attired buzzard hovering a carcass.

**She must think I'm a moron. Of course I know...I have to be punished for what I did, death's not enough.**

"I'm going to make you suffer, Detective Maclay...suffer so much you'll wish you were never born. Pity you don't have any family, or I'd make them suffer as well...but not to worry," she finished brightly, obviously looking forward to Tara's punishment. "I'll just extract more from your little hide."

"Your little boy's a monster," Tara whispered weakly, she badly needed a sip of water. "I'm only sorry I didn't kill him. I'll get both of you one day."

Glory laughed. "Not where you're going you won't."

**I really don't give a fuck, you trashy bitch. Willow is safe and that's all that matters.**

* * *

Tara had another visitor. She woke one morning to see the pale face of Willow Rosenberg staring at her from the side of the bed. The wounded cop managed a small smile as the kid reached out and took her hand.

"I don't know how I can thank you for saving my life," Willow whispered, her small voice choking with tears.

"What on earth were you doing out that late by yourself?" Tara asked quietly.

Willow ducked her head as though she thought Tara was blaming her for what had happened. "My stepfather kicked me out. I didn't do anything, honest. I was sleeping on the sofa, that's where I always sleep, and he came in to say I was taking up too much space and had to get out. I only had time to grab Miss Kitty," Willow held up the stuffed toy which Tara could now see was a cat.

There was nothing to Willow. How anyone could think she took up too much space was beyond Tara. A strong gust of wind would blow the kid away.

"It's not your fault Willow, grown up stuff like that...it's never your fault...you just promise me you won't let stuff like that get you down," Tara tried her hardest to rise an inch from her pillows so she could see Willow more clearly but even that simple task proved impossible.

"I'm won't," Willow replied with a hint of pride in her voice, her chin lifted a little higher. "I'm going to law school. I'm going to spend my life putting bad guys in jail."

Tara laughed but it came out more like a croak. "That's not what lawyers do Willow...but it would be good to have a few like you."

A nurse entered the room and interrupted their conversation in a brusque voice, "Visiting hours are over kid.

Willow looked longingly at Tara one last time. "Are they gonna give you a medal now? For saving me?"

Tara smiled weakly and turned to look out the window, "Yeah maybe, kiddo - a real, shiny medal."

* * *

Tara sat stoically in the dock, as she had done for the duration of her trial. They had already found her guilty and were now passing judgment on her. She smiled as she remembered just how right she had been. No one could escape judgment.

**The trial is a farce. They all knew I was well within my rights to kill those two crooks...lowlife scum like that are a dime a dozen. I will admit that beating Talbot within an inch of his life was a tad heavy-handed but I don't give a fuck. I'll gladly do time for the pleasure of teaching that piece of shit a well-deserved lesson. **

**So I sit in the dock and wait for the judge to rain fire and brimstone down upon me. I look at her from the corner of my eye. My skin is crawling. She's giving off the vibes of someone who has been bought and paid for. However, my sentence doesn't worry me in the slightest. The only concern I have is for Willow. Who is going to look out for her now? **

**I knew what the papers said about me. I scan the crowd in the gallery, dozens of them packed in to see the psycho cop. They're a pack of sheep here to get their thrills. I search for Willow's pale little face, just to be able to see her one last time and check that she's alright. Of course she isn't here and nor should she be here. She's tucked away with some nice foster family...safe. Willow is safe and that's all that matters.**

The judge coughed slightly before she spoke to make sure she had Tara's full attention,

"Tara Maclay, the jury having found you guilty of the aforementioned crimes, I hereby sentence you to twenty years hard labour."


	2. Angels in an Oldsmobile '88

**Chapter Two  
****Angels in an Oldsmobile '88**

**If you've never experienced a day that lasts a year, then you've never done hard time. I don't just mean hard time, I mean backbreaking, soul-destroying, **_**hard time**_**. At the trial I was judged, found guilty and appropriately sentenced to a punishment befitting my apparently heinous crime – the crime of saving a little girl's life. If I had a second shot at things, I'd do it all over again – except I'd drill that fucker Tommy Talbot between the eyes instead of just taking his hand. Call me a fucking martyr but it's with a sense of acceptance that I serve my time at Basin City Women's Prison. It's an innocuous name for the hell on earth where they keep the scum of the earth - the female ones anyway. **

**Everything about this place is shit - the buildings, the cells, the exercise yards and the prisoners. As soon as I get out I'm going to find somewhere green. I don't care if it's a solitary tree and a patch of grass in some crappy little park, as long as it's green. **

**The only pure things in this stinking hole are the letters I get from little Willow Rosenberg. One beautifully crisp white envelope arrives every Wednesday morning signed with the name, Olivia. She's a good kid. She doesn't use her real name and keeps herself hidden. I open the letters and find neatly spaced and joined handwriting. The kid's bright and for some reason that makes me real proud even though I'm nothing to her except the screwed up cop that tried to save her life. Those letters are all I have to keep me going - the letters and the knowledge that she's safe. **

**My time here isn't going to be easy, I know that much, but by god it was worth it. I wonder how Tommy Talbot is adjusting to life as a cripple?**

* * *

With a grunt of exertion Tara hefted the pickaxe up above her head, muscles straining with the effort, before bringing it crashing into the stone at her feet. The momentum of the heavy tool did most of the work but the jarring impact assaulted her already aching muscles. It was near quitting time but lunch had been an eternity ago and her endurance was at its limit. Tara let the pickaxe rest on the ground for a moment as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with her grimy forearm. She looked back and surveyed the path of rock she'd broken up over the course of the day, reflecting on the fact that it was almost like the course of her life over the past eight years. It had been one rock after another. Then she looked down at the impact those eight years had had on her body, clad as it was in a filthy t-shirt that had once been white and a pair of orange overalls which had bee peeled off her shoulders and tied around her waist. Tara had never been soft but now her trim muscles were as hard as steel and there was not an ounce of spare fat on her body due to the combination of brutal physical work and sparse diet.

Not all her fellow inmates were as hard and lean. She looked across at the small group of favoured prisoners smoking cigarettes with one of the guards. A gang of heavy set stone butches and their femme girlfriends who had never lifted a perfectly manicured finger even though they were supposedly sentenced to hard labour.

One of the gang turned and saw Tara staring. Her name was Baby Dedera - the Queen Butch of Basin City women's prison. She was six foot, two hundred and fifty pounds of angry, ruthless dyke. What's more, she'd hated Tara's guts from the moment she'd arrived. Tara guessed it had something to do with the fact that she was responsible for putting Baby away in the first place. Baby certainly hadn't wasted any time trying to get her revenge. As a cop in prison, Tara had to maintain constant vigilance every hour of ever day, and it was exhausting. Tara's shoulders sagged slightly, only once had Baby got the better of her. Just once, on her first day in the joint. It had not happened again. On Tara's second day, four of them jumped her on trash detail. There was no way in hell Tara was going to submit to that kind of shit. She'd fought like a wildcat, breaking two arms and a nose, gouging an eye, dishing out at least fifty stitches and inflicting countless bruises. She hadn't escaped scot-free. Tara gently ran her index finger down the left side of her forehead, tracing the thick white scar which ended at her temple. In the fray, someone had got in a good slice with a broken bottle, narrowly missing her eye. It was a small price to pay for the respect Tara has earned from the other inmates. She tore her eyes away from the group of women and resumed work with her pickaxe, smashing the next rock with an added ferocity.

Several minutes later the bell rang to signal the end of the days work. Tara found herself looking forward to the slop that they dished out at dinner - at least it would be hot.

* * *

Her leaden dinner sitting heavily in her stomach, Tara turned in that night to her narrow cot in her solitary cell. Before lights out she withdrew Willow's latest letter from the concealed compartment she had painstakingly carved out behind the grill in her room. Although it was plain, ordinary paper covered in ink pen, Tara could swear a sweet smell drifted into the room with that letter. She lay back on the pillow and unfolded its crisp white paper. For a moment or two she stared at the neat rows of handwriting which she had watched mature with age.

Tara honestly couldn't believe the letters had kept coming. Willow would be nineteen, or perhaps twenty? Tara had no idea when her birthday was. She had expected the letters to stop a few months after her arrival in prison. What kid maintained interest in writing letters to an inmate for eight years?

Yet they still came. Always the same meticulous style, full of little anecdotes, humorous stories that made Tara laugh whether or not they were made up. Willow never said where she was or exactly what she was doing. Although the word 'studying' came up a lot and Tara hoped that Willow was realising her dream to become a lawyer. She could just see the serious little girl surrounded by a pile of heavy textbooks…still the same skinny little Willow Rosenberg. It was difficult to imagine her as anything else.

Tara didn't expect to ever see Willow again, but the letters were a godsend.

* * *

Tara looked at the days work assignments and saw with gratifying relief that she was back on 'rock' detail. Although it was exhausting, backbreaking work it was a chance for fresh air and a small measure of solitude. She supposed she ought to thank glory Talbot for making sure she got the worst work details.

She waited for the bus in the bleak prison yard with the other ladies, her overalls pulled up over her shoulders against the early chill of morning. The driver was watching her from the corner of her eye. She was some new woman Tara had never seen before. All Tara could see was a pair of full ruby red lips beneath the shadow of her trucker cap. Tara ignored her. Most of the prisoners stood around smoking fistfuls of cigarettes, Tara stood and dreamt of being in New York.

Baby and her gang of thugs joined the assembled crowd and they threaded their way through it to stand beside Tara. Tara ignored them as well. It wasn't going to be that way for long however, Baby clearly had something to say. She made a point of checking that the guards were up front talking to the driver and partially obscured by the throng. Tara sighed perceptibly as two of her goons took up position on either side of her, hemming her in. She couldn't stand crooks that lacked imagination.

"Lovely morning ain't it Maclay, sleep well?" Baby asked in her clipped accent.

"Probably feel asleep reading her love letters," another women standing in front of Tara sneered.

Tara often went to sleep reading Willow's letters. She kept her eyes on her boots - they were in definite need of a polish.

"Yeah," Baby seized on this point and ran with it. "Who they from Maclay? Some little rich bitch up in Sacred Oaks? Probably lying to 'yo lil arse, telling you she still loves you when she's really out getting poked by some rich doctor."

Tara lifted her head and met Baby's ice-like stare with one of her own. She couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer. "They're not love letters, and besides, they're none of your fuckin' business."

Baby growled low in her throat, that wasn't the way you talked to Baby and Tara knew it…but didn't care in the slightest. Like lightning, her thick fingers shot out and grabbed a fistful of Tara's hair. She yanked Tara's head back and lent over her. Tara averted her eyes so she didn't have to stare at her but Baby grabbed her chin and forced her to look.

"They're in my prison so of course they're my business!" spittle flecked at the corner of her mouth.

**As her rank breath assaults me I reflect on my bad luck. Why do I always get the complete and utter psychos for enemies? They're dangerous, far more dangerous than a sane person. Unpredictable too. You never know what they're gonna pull. It could just as easily be a knife in the guts...and everything would be all over, just as simple as that.**

"Could be that they're from a young lady by the name of Willow Rosenberg," Baby clearly enjoyed seeing the way Tara's eyes widened with shock, they widened even further when Baby withdrew a thick wad of white paper from inside her coveralls. Baby regarded the letters for a moment, waving them in Tara's face, "There's a whole lot more where these came from too…smart girl not signing her own name."

She whacked Tara across the cheek with the letters just to rub it in even further. Her thugs laughed mockingly, the raucous sounds grating in Tara's ears. Tara watched the letters move in her fat hand, wanting only to have them returned to her but knowing full well they were now gone forever.

**They're only paper you silly girl…only paper. They can't hurt you.**

Baby continued her taunting. "You see, I got some friends on the outside that would love to pay a visit to Willow. In fact, I expect to be hearing back from them any day now. Maybe they'll bring me a few souvenirs of their fun."

Tara let out an angry roar and made to charge at her tormentor. She was seized from either side in vice-like grips, nails digging into her flesh through the material of her coveralls. With her thugs restraining Tara, Baby balled up her fist and with a grunt of effort, drove it straight into Tara's stomach. Tara doubled over instantly and at the same moment the thugs released their hold on her. She fell face first into the gravel but did not utter a sound. Baby pounced on her within seconds, turning her face so her cheek was pressed on the gravel. She could see Baby looking down on her out of one eye. A thug pressed her boot down on Tara's cheek to keep her down.

Tara glared. She remained defiant even though the position she was in, hardly allowed for it. "You're a lying sack of shit Baby, you have no idea where Willow is and it's gonna stay that way. Do you think I'd have any use for a stack of paper other than to wipe up the shit that comes out of your mouth?"

Baby was practically foaming at the mouth. With an indignant glare at Tara she passed the letters up to a member of her gang who was standing behind her with a lighter. With a look of malice, the woman set fire to a corner of the wad and let them fall to the gravel in front of Tara. Tara was forced to watch her only source of hope go up in flames, and pretend not to give a damn about it.

"Consider the others torched as well," Baby ground her knuckles into the back of Tara's head before she lent down close to her ear and hissed. "You're never gonna make it out of here alive, Maclay. The next time you're alone and your back is turned, if you step into a dark shadow, if you relax your guard to so much as scratch your arse, you're dead."

**I could yawn…if I had a dollar for the number of times I've heard that threat…well, let's just say I'd be set for life when I finally get out. This time however, something's different and I know it. Baby has new orders - get rid of me as soon as possible. Make me suffer, but get rid of me.**

"Looking forward to it," Tara whispered as the boot was removed from her cheek.

The guards were starting to move through the throng, organizing the work party into lines to file onto the bus. Tara felt a rough hand on her back lift her to her feet. Baby's thugs brushed the gravel from her coveralls as though it had all been a bit of sport. They were smiling with their arms around Tara as the guards walked past.

They eventually let go of Tara to let her join the file which was moving onto the bus. As she shuffled towards the door, Tara kept her narrowed eyes on Baby's back.

**Let them come. One thing I know for sure, I'm gonna take that fat dyke straight to hell with me.**

* * *

The working day passed uneventfully. Tara worked her heart out as usual and took her seat on the bus bound for the prison covered in the day's dirt. She regarded her reflection in the window, her pale skin spotted with grime. Tara was approaching thirty-two and even in prison, the passing of years had done little to her face. Her cheeks were a little leaner, but her jaw was just as determined and her eyes even harder. She'd never been vain, what cop could afford to be? But she remembered the younger Tara that had captivated women. She had been a rookie cop with an air of invulnerability; aloof and unreachable. Tara had played on it for all it was worth and by god had it worked.

It hadn't lasted long, after a year or two she let the corruption and sin that ran rampant through the police force, not to mention the City itself, get to her. Tara remembered the last relationship she'd been in - a whirlwind of a ride with an up and coming young actress. It had been in all the papers, the fact that such a famous actress was involved in a lesbian fling with a rookie detective. It had guaranteed front-page news for months. The starlet had eventually given up and walked out on her, blaming everything on Tara's dark moods and increasing anger at the world around her. Tara hadn't bothered to argue with her, she was right. They played a few of her movies at the prison even now and then. Sundays were movie nights. All the dykes loved the actress. Tara sat and watched the films as though she were watching one of her own dreams.

After that it was work, and it was supposed to have been work for the rest of her life. Now there was just this. Breaking rocks and having your soul sucked out through every pore in your body.

"Wonder what slop they're serving up tonight?" Tara's seatmate was talking to her.

Tara turned, supposing a little bit of polite chitchat was still possible even though she was a marked woman, she frowned slightly. "What day is it today?"

"Tuesday I think," the other woman replied.

Tara managed a small smile. "Beef casserole."

Her seatmate laughed and remarked with scorn. "You mean that shit they pretend is beef casserole, I used to feed my dog better tucker than that."

Tara didn't argue. "I know what you mean, you get scared when it starts to taste good."

**Not to mentioned wondering whether it will be your last meal.**

The other woman laughed. "I agree, I hate to think what's in that shit."

Tara didn't reply to her last statement, she was too busy staring up at the road ahead where something was blocking the road. As the bus ground to a rather screeching halt she realised it was a beaten up, old Oldsmobile 88. The prisoners were talking animatedly amongst themselves as they guards stood with their weapons at the ready.

At first there was no sign of movement from the car and it appeared to be empty. One of the guards exited the bus, a heavy 12 gauge at the ready in her hands. The other two remained alert and scanned their surrounds for any hint of trouble while the driver was on the RT, radioing it in. The prisoners were craning their necks to look out the window, always ready to seize an opportunity.

What happened next was too fast for most eyes although Tara saw it all clearly. The attack came not from the car but the rocks on the right side of the road. Something smashed through the window, narrowly missing the driver and taking out a guard, ripping through her neck with deadly accuracy. When it came to a halt, embedded in the side of the bus just in front of her, Tara saw it was a throwing star.

The guard outside merely had time to begin to lift her weapon when a dark shape moved from the evening shadows and ripped her to pieces with a pair of samurai swords. The remaining guards raised their weapons and fired from the open door, the shape darted away and the shot only struck gravel. As both guards pumped their shotguns to fire a second time, the driver stood up, drew a massive magnum from the holster at her waist and fired twice. One guard fell backwards down the stairs, her shoulder a mass of ruptured flesh and bone. The other dropped in the aisle, killed instantly with a giant hole in her forehead, her brains sprayed over a window.

The driver pulled off her trucker cap and tossed it to one side, shaking out her long brown hair from beneath it. It fell about her shoulders like a cape. Her eyes burned with intensity as she trained her weapon on the heckling prisoners. All clamoured to be set free. Tara just sat, calmly watching the brunette with her full red lips. There was a groan of pain as the wounded guard was pulled from the stairs and thrown unceremoniously out onto the road. Another woman boarded the bus, clad head to toe in blood spattered black leather, carrying two blooded swords in her fists. Her blonde hair was tucked up neatly behind her head, revealing a rather sweet face. No doubt it cleverly concealed the hellion within. She sheathed one sword at her waist and tossed a set of keys to the driver.

Tara's eyes widened when the blonde raised her other sword and pointed directly at her, she didn't say a word. The brunette unlocked the grate that separated the guards from the prisoners. She then strode purposefully to Tara, ignoring the pleas of the other prisoners to be set free. She stood above Tara, lazily twirling her magnum on her finger. Tara's seatmate retreated as far back into her seat as she could with a look of stark terror on her face at being right beside the gun-twirling woman.

"You Tara Maclay?" she asked bluntly.

Tara studied the woman's face, her brunette hair framing her olive skin and intense brown eyes and for once in her life she was almost speechless. She managed to find a little of her customary swagger somewhere.

"Depends, are you here to whack me or get me off this bus?" Tara wasn't even sure which option she preferred.

The woman smiled. "We're getting the fuck out of here."

In a matter of seconds, Tara's shackles were off. In the process her seatmate was freed but she just sat in her seat, too terrified to move. Tara felt distinctly odd as she walked down the aisle, trying her best to ignore the heckling that was being screamed out from behind her, mostly from Baby and her cohorts. As she moved off the bus, she didn't dare look back at her tormentor. She could picture the twisted, malicious face in her mind anyway. Her feet crunched on the gravel and as she moved away from the bus she was stuck by the sudden and rather frightening realisation that she was free. She stopped walking and stared at the two women climbing into the Oldsmobile. She had absolutely no idea who they were and what they wanted with her. For all she knew it could be Glory's twisted way of giving her hope and then snatching it away in the blink of an eye.

"Hey!" the brunette shouted, paused about to climb into the driver's side. "Are you coming or do you wanna go back to prison? The goons will be on their way!"

Tara found herself running towards the car as its engine flared into life, there was no way she was going back. No sooner had she opened the door then the cars wheels spun furiously and launched it down the road. Tara allowed herself one last look back at the bus behind her. It was only when she faced the front and settled back into the leather seat that she realised her heart was beating as though she had just run a mile. She regarded her rescuers…if they could even be called that.

"I'm not being rude, but considering that you know my name…" Tara began and the blonde immediately swivelled in her seat, giving her a piercing stare.

The brunette looked in the rear vision mirror and smiled to reveal a set of pearly white teeth beneath those ruby lips. "Don't be offended, she doesn't say much except with those blades of hers, she says a hell of a lot with those. She's Buffy, and I'm Faith, pleased to meet you, Maclay."

"Likewise," Tara breathed, suddenly feeling extremely grateful. "I don't think I would've lasted another week in that place. I don't get it though, why would you do this for me?"

Faith kept her eyes on the road ahead but she reached for an object in the glove box. "Don't get me wrong Maclay, you seem real nice and all, but I would never do this for you. I'm doing it as a favour for a real good friend…and she made me promise to give you this as soon as I could."

Faith tossed a small object back at Tara and she caught it. Tara stared at the little misshapen, grey, furry object in bewilderment. She turned it over in her dirty hands and came face to face with two little button eyes and a few stitches for a nose. She recognised it, the last time she had seen it was in the hands of a little redheaded kid standing beside a hospital bed talking to a wounded cop.

"_I only had time to grab Miss Kitty."_

* * *

"You have the nerve to come in here and tell me that fucking dyke that crippled my baby has escaped?"

The three grown men quailed beneath the fury of the impeccably manicured bronze-haired woman standing in front of them. Her scarlet Chanel gown tightly hugging each of curves. Glory Talbot strode forward and delivered a back handed slap to the man nearest her. His eyes watered as she snatched his chin and dug her nails into the flesh of his face.

"Madame Talbot, it was unexpected," he croaked. "We had no idea!"

"You had no idea?" she parroted in a mocking tone. "You fuckin' morons. It's your job to have an idea!"

She released her hold and strode back to her leather reclining sofa. She sat down and threw her feet up on it, rubbing her temples as though she had a fierce headache.

The past eight years appeared to have been kind to her, although a closer inspection would have revealed that it was mostly the result of trips to the plastic surgeon. Her cheeks were a little too rounded, her lips too swollen and her breasts most definitely too perky for a woman of her age. She selected a grape from the tray at her fingertips and placed it in her mouth, biting down on it savagely.

"She was supposed to die in there!" Glory raged, spitting out the grape pips onto the floor where a hovering servant immediately scooped them up, "I don't ask for much from you but I did ask this one little thing. Just how hard is it to knock off an inmate doing hard labour that no one gives a fuck about?"

"We had it planned on the inside…" the suited man began pitifully.

Glory picked up a second grape and threw it at him, hitting him on the forehead. "Well you'll have to change your plans won't you? I want her good and dead you hear? Now get out!"

With a chorus of 'Yes Madame Talbot' the three men scurried as fast as possible from her presence.

She called out at their retreating backs, "I still want her to suffer mind you! Make sure she does!"

With an almighty huff, Glory fell back amidst her cushions, an immense scowl completely ruining her handsome features. She silently vowed that Tara Maclay would come to rue the day she messed with the Talbot family.


	3. the Ladies of Old Town

**Chapter Three  
****The Ladies of Old Town**

**My rescuers have taken me straight to Old Town - the prostitute's quarter where the Ladies are the only law. I should have known that's where they would run to. Where else could you go with an escaped prisoner wanted dead by the most powerful woman in the city? As we drive through the streets of Old Town I look at the two women sitting up front with a deep feeling of unease. Cops never go into Old Town unless they have the cash to spend and are looking for the kind of 'favours' the ladies bestow. I don't see the point of paying for sex when there are enough women out there willing to give it away. I look at my rescuers in a new light. However benevolent they have been towards me, they are ruthless women solely concerned about protecting their own people and interests. **

**The Oldsmobile grinds to a halt outside the foulest looking joint I have ever seen and Buffy exits the car without so much as a word. Doesn't say much that one. Faith asks if I'm coming and I nod. I look at the name above the bar - **_**Kitty's**_** - an innocent sounding name for a place that looks far from it.**

"Here, you might wanna chuck this on." Once out of the car, Faith tossed Tara a long leather jacket. "Cover up those prison digs.'

Tara glanced down, she had been so busy savouring her newfound freedom that she forgot she still wore her dirty prison-issue overalls. Her appearance screamed 'escaped prisoner.' She accepted the coat with a nod and tugged it on, drawing it tightly around her. Tara then glanced up at the flashing neon sign that spelt out 'Kitty's' over and over again. It was obviously not designed to flash but was flickering due to some fault. It made Tara's eyes hurt and she quickly looked away. The doorway was little more than a hole in a brick wall. It was watched over by a muscle bound bouncer who's every visible body part was covered in tattoos, including his shaven head and face. Tara reached out and grabbed Faith's elbow before they entered the joint.

"You got somethin' to say blondie?" Faith asked over her shoulder, looking as though she were impatient to be getting inside.

Tara held back from entering Kitty's, her hands firmly on her hips. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really grateful to you both for risking your necks for me, but how on earth does Willow know people like you? I mean, she's a good kid and would never be mixed up in…your sort of game."

"Our sort of game?" Faith asked in a low voice.

The brunette stopped in her tracks and stepped out of the entranceway. She stared long and hard at Tara. It was a stare Tara met and returned in kind. Both women instinctively knew they were of a similar disposition - tough women used to being in situations that called for them to be blunt, abrasive and uncompromising. Although where Tara had chosen to uphold the law, Faith had proudly flaunted, broken and ignored it.

Faith eventually spoke, keeping her tone low and threatening. "You've been away eight years, that's an awful long time in someone's life and an awful lot you've missed out on. Me, Buffy and the other Ladies, we were here for her so don't you go judging us when you've got no clue!"

To emphasise her last point, Faith jabbed Tara hard in the chest with the tip of her index finger. Tara wasn't about to take any of that shit, even from Faith. With both hands she grabbed her by the collar of the guard uniform she still wore and, with a violent heave, threw her up against a wall outside Kitty's. She met Faith's outraged glare with an intense one of her own and kept a firm grip.

Tara had a comeback of her own. "Don't you dare underestimate how much I care about this kid. If I find any of you have harmed her in any way over the past eight years I am gonna personally-"

"You're gonna what, blondie?" Faith interrupted with a menacing scowl. "You're alone on my turf and I personally could make you wish you were back in prison with my bare hands."

"I'd beg to differ," Tara hissed in reply, knowing full well as she sized Faith up that her threat was overly ambitious. "Nothing you could ever do to me would mean anything compared to that place. You think you scare me? The most powerful woman in this town wants me dead so I really couldn't care less about you or your gang of whores!"

Tara watched the play of emotions across Faith's face. The brunette's eyes narrowed with outrage, her lip stiffened and if Tara looked down she knew she would see her fists clenched. Slowly however, her facial muscles relaxed.

"Tara, you should really shut up while there's still time for us to be friends," Faith's teeth were slightly gritted as though she was still holding back the urge to lash out with her fists.

Tara's eyebrows raised, she had expected a fist rather than an offer of friendship. "Why the fuck would I want to be your friend?"

Faith sighed as though Tara were profoundly stupid. "Because we both have the same interest at heart in protecting Willow…and unless I'm very much mistaken this 'gang of whores', as you so charmingly called us, are the only friends you have at the moment."

Tara instantly knew that Faith was completely right but she waited a few moments before releasing her hold on her. She couldn't bring herself to appear weak in the slightest.

"I lost all my good manners in prison," was all Tara said by way of apology.

Faith didn't seem to mind, she merely shrugged. "You need a drink, come on, it'll be on the house."

Faith ushered Tara inside beneath the baleful glare of the bouncer. Once inside, Tara ran her eyes over the joint. Its interior matched it exterior. It was a dirty, low ceiled room where the only real source of light hovered about the stripper dancing on a stage in the centre of the place. However, Tara could also now see the type of patrons who frequented this establishment…and they weren't a pretty bunch. Tara entered cautiously, although it was clear that no one was in there for the purpose of drawing attention to himself. Most gave her a quick glance and returned to downing their beers and watching the stripper longingly. She half wondered if she'd run into any of them before in her previous incarnation, however long ago that seemed. Tara ran her eyes back over the crowd, there were a lot of leather jackets and tattoos, back over the stage with its lone stripper and finally back to Faith who was nodding her head appreciatively. Whether at the music or the stripper, Tara couldn't say.

"What are we even doing here?" Tara asked her, almost shouting in order to be heard over the music that filled the room.

Faith looked over her shoulder and smirked, evidently Tara's manners were not about to be restored instantly. She clapped Tara heartily on the back, almost forcing her to stumble forward.

"Tara, I'd stop talking and sample the entertainment if I were you," Faith nodded towards the stage.

"The stripper? But I'm not interested…" Tara began in an indignant manner.

Her eyes drifted towards the stage. Tara's only intention was to confirm that she was not the sort of drooling drunkard who would sit and leer at some half-dressed woman. However when she saw a flash of vibrant red hair, she was unable to look away.

Tara whispered just one word, "Willow."

**I had expected to find redheaded little Willow Rosenberg exactly the same as I had left her, a skinny, bookish twelve-year-old kid. Instead I see in front of me, up on that stage, a woman.**

Tara watched transfixed as Willow's body gyrated around the pole in front of her. When she noticed what Willow was wearing, or rather the lack of it, she was torn between her desire to watch and the guilty feeling that she ought to turn away. Willow's lithe legs were clad in a pair of black leather chaps so tight they seemed to be a part of her. Beneath them she wore black underwear. When she spun around, Tara saw it was a g-string, revealing Willow's creamy white, perfectly formed arse. Tara felt a hot wave pass through her body, culminating in a hot pink flush at her cheeks. From there, her eyes moved up over Willow's taut stomach and to her chest. A thin black leather bra barely covered her breasts. As she danced she trailed a finger along her small, but perfect cleavage. Tara had to reach out and grab the back of a chair to keep from falling to the ground. Tara then stared intently at the face she had last seen eight years ago to find that although it had changed considerably, it was still familiar. Her pixie-like face had lost its puppy fat to reveal lines which were both strong and soft. Her small red lips were opened in a tantalising pout, breaking into a small grin every now and then as she drew appreciative comments from the crowd. Her eyes were closed as though she were imaging herself somewhere else for a moment, however, when she opened them, the green eyes sparkled amidst the light spray of freckles over her pale skin. Then there was her hair - it's deep red hue was both luxuriant and brazen. Although it was now swaying with the movement of Willow's head, Tara could see it fell straight down to the small of her back. She could almost imagine running her fingers through its mass.

**Everything about her is perfect, from the way her hair falls about her body as she works that pole, to the curves of her perfect little breasts. I realise that I don't know this young woman and I have no clue why after all this time she would want to remember me. Of course, she wants to repay me for saving her life. That's all. She's grateful, she's helped get you out of that place, helped get your life back…and now you need to get on with living it. It will be awkward seeing her, thanking her, she won't know what you expect. And the way you're looking at her…it's trouble. Just get out of here Maclay, write her a fucking 'thank you' card later.**

Tara took one last look at Willow up on that stage before turning and making a beeline straight for the door. However as soon as she took her eyes off the beautiful young woman she needed to see her again. It was a burning desire within her that would not quit. Tara turned and looked over her shoulder as she made her way out. As she did, she saw Willow look her way. Their eyes met and Willow's widened with instant recognition. The girl smiled, white teeth flashing in a huge grin. Before Tara could take another step Willow leapt off the stage and down amongst the crowd. She pushed her way through the crowd without pause and then threw herself into Tara's arms.

So many things assaulted Tara at that point. It was not just Willow's physical body, but also the way she smelt and that warmth that radiated from her. Toned arms were flung around her neck, holding her tightly. Willow's face filled her vision and Tara's heart stopped beating for a few seconds. She almost keeled over completely when Willow went straight in for a moist, enthusiastic kiss. It was definitely not the chaste kiss Tara had expected in thanks. When Tara gently pulled away, Willow was gazing up at her with rapt adoration on her face.

"Willow," Tara croaked weakly, wanting only to apologise and tell Willow that she was wrong to kiss her in that way but something kept the words from leaving her lips.

Willow just kept smiling, interpreting Tara's rather choked whisper as a sign of approval. "I know, I'll go put some clothes on. Faith and Buffy will take us home."

"Look kid…" Tara half-heartedly began to protest but Willow was already out of hearing distance.

Tara felt her heart skip more than several beats as she watched Willow move away from her through the throng of Kitty's patrons. She noticed how the crowd parted to let her through with no jeering or attempts to grab her. For a group of drunken men, they were almost respectful. Willow turned and glanced back at Tara over her shoulder, flashing a dazzling smile. Tara gulped noticeably. As Willow disappeared from sight, Tara turned and caught Faith's eye from where the brunette stood at the bar with a shot in hand. She gave a long, hard look that Tara couldn't decipher, only looking away when she downed the shot in a single gulp.

* * *

**Ten minutes later, I find myself once again in the backseat of the Oldsmobile on my way to god knows where. Although I'm damned relieved to be out of that joint, the memory of what I saw in there plays insistently in my mind. I try to shake the image of little Willow Rosenberg wearing provocative leather clothing and dancing around a pole in front of a room full of men but it's well and truly stuck in there. And that's not even what really worries me…I see her perfect breasts, the creamy white skin of her arse and the way her hair falls around her face and upper body. My heart beats faster, my mouth goes dry and I know more than anything else, I want her. I want her and it terrifies me. Even more so when I look across at her as she is sitting next to me now. She's changed her clothes. She's wearing a black duffel coat with dinky wooden buttons and a fluffy hood sitting on her shoulders with her bright red hair tucked beneath it. From the corner of my eye I see a pair of red Converse peeking from beneath her jeans. The make-up has been hastily scrubbed from her face. Fuck, she doesn't even look fifteen.**

Tara's alarm bells rang over time when Willow scooted across the space that separate them and burrowed into the crook of her arm. Her cheeks flushed red because the day's filth still clung to her like an ugly blanket. Willow smelt so sweet and clean despite the fact she had just been dancing.

"Uh, Willow, I wouldn't get too close to me if I were you…I stink like a pig," Tara looked down at the young woman who was gazing up at her.

Willow wrinkled her nose as though she could smell something foul and it was a few moments before Tara realised she was playing with her. Tara's lips very nearly curled up into a smile, the redhead was just too cute for her own good. She had to look away and settle for staring out the window, it was far less exciting, but also far less likely to have dangerous consequences. Beside her, she heard Willow giggle quietly and felt her body quiver with pent-up excitement.

"Tara, I've been waiting for this day for eight years, do you really think I'd let the fact that you're a little bit smelly stand in my way…hmmm, okay, the fact that you are very smelly!" Willow laughed again. Tara had never heard so much laughter within such a short space of time. "I honestly don't give a rat's arse, if you only knew how I've been missing you then you'd understand," Willow then straightened up so she could sit and look Tara in the eye, her face taking on a more serious expression. "I've missed you so much. The thought of you locked up in that awful place just for saving my life was making me sick. Those guys were scum and they deserved what you did to them. Almost from the moment I met Faith and Buffy I was badgering them to rescue you, we would have come sooner but you have no idea how long it takes and how many bribes you have to dish out to get someone on the inside in a prison…and Faith's not exactly prison guard material…"

"Hey!" Faith interrupted, breaking Willow's stream of incessant babble. "I am so prison guard material, look how butch I am for fuck's sake!"

"You're not as butch as you think you are…or as tough," Willow retorted. "But anyway, I shouldn't tease you when I haven't even thanked you and Buffy for pulling off Tara's rescue."

"Only for you kid," Faith replied, as she said it she met Tara's eyes in the rear vision mirror and gave her another of her long, hard stares. "Only for you."

Faith returned to focusing her attention on the road. Their stop had obviously come up faster than expected as she slammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right. The car slid violently, sending Willow straight into Tara's lap. When all was still again and the car had ground to a halt in front of a large, formerly opulent building.

Tara looked down at the young woman that had ended up in her lap. For a few moments she just stared at her, longing to reach down and brush the stray strand of hair that had fallen over Willow's eyes. She was poised to do so when the car door beside her opened suddenly and she glanced up to see Faith holding the door open. Biting her lip, Tara gently prised herself out from beneath Willow and exited the car. She was about to offer a hand to help Willow out but Faith brushed passed her and took Willow's hand instead. Tara was left to follow them inside, with Buffy bringing up the rear. She couldn't help but feel that the pint-sized assassin's fingers were twitching on the grip of her katana.

Added to the threat from behind on either side of the doorway were two gorgeous women. Their scanty leather attire not masking the fact that they meant business and knew how to use the Uzi's in their hands. They welcomed Faith and Willow with warm smiles but watched Tara through narrow eyes.

Faith released Willow's hand as they moved into the entranceway and turned to Tara. "Welcome to the Palace of Dreams!"

Tara eyes roved down at the black and white tiles that covered the floor, up at the massively vaulted ceiling above her and around at the dominating, solid wooden staircase that lead up to the next floor. She found that she was standing in the lobby of an old hotel, although to call it a Palace was akin to calling a sack a Givenchy gown. There was very little furnishing beyond a few leather couches that had seen better days, in fact, the whole establishment had seen better days. The whole dimly lit place gave off a distinct aura of long past opulence. Although on the whole, Tara had to admit it was nicer than anywhere she had ever lived.

"It's nice," she shrugged, only hoping that it had somewhere she could wash and sleep.

A smartly dressed young woman welcomed the small gang home from behind the desk to one side of the lobby. She wore a plain, almost conservative white shirt and her hair was pulled back into an even plainer ponytail. It was only when she stepped out from behind the desk that Tara saw she was wearing the shortest leather skirt ever made. The curve of each buttock protruded from behind it, showing off her pink panties. Her high heels showed off an exceptionally lithe leg and a pair of very slender ankles. She moved to embrace Willow with a warm smile.

"Hey Dawnie, how's business?" Willow asked, giving the taller girl a quick hug.

"It's slow tonight," the other girl shrugged and turned to regard Tara with a wry smile. "Who's your new friend? She looks kinda dirty."

"Ah Dawn, this is Tara…you know **the** Tara," Faith answered quickly, nodding discreetly in Willow's direction.

"Oh!" Dawn's face broke into an all-knowing smile.

Tara glanced around at each of the women's faces to see them sharing knowing glances. She was unnerved to see that even Buffy had a sort-of smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Who said business has been slow tonight?" a rather brash voice sounded from the lower landing of the stairs and all eyes turned to see the newcomer. "I've certainly been busy enough."

Tara's eyes widened at the sight of a scantily clad female making her way down the staircase in a pair of red pumps. The pumps matched her red garment, which appeared to be little more than a silk nightdress. Whatever it was, it was barely held up over her breasts by two thin straps and the length left little to the imagination. Her perfectly coiffed blonde hair sat in curls on her shoulders. With carefully calculated steps she made her way down the stairs and joined the group standing in the lobby.

"Haven't you heard all the excitement coming from my room?" she directed the question in Dawn's direction.

"Your vibrator's not a client!" Dawn shot back.

The woman in red let out an angry huff and shunned Dawn instead of rebutting the argument. She turned her attention to Tara who stuck out like a sore thumb as a stranger. The blonde crossed the short distance that separated them and stood in front of her with one hand on her hip, breasts thrust right under Tara's nose. She ran her tongue over her teeth as she looked Tara up and down, showing off her lipstick which was as bold as her attire.

"Who's this?" she purred, her voice now throaty and husky. "You know I don't usually do women, but I'll do her…as long as she has a bath first."

"Ah, Anya…this is Tara…Tara meet Anya," Faith quickly intervened as Anya appeared ready to jump Tara then and there, even without the bath first.

Anya's face quickly morphed from sultry and sexy into a rather annoyed pout as she realised she wasn't going to get her way with this dirty but mysterious new blonde.

"I suppose this is** the** Tara?" she asked, looking at the other ladies.

"Yes," Faith and Dawn replied at the same time.

Tara frowned as more knowing looks were passed amongst the ladies. She looked at Willow. The redhead's face now matched her hair and she sincerely appeared to want to sink through the floor. She kept her gaze downwards so she wouldn't meet Tara's eyes.

Tara sighed, it was all becoming too much to take in. She was more than used to lack of sleep but this day had taken a particular toll on her emotionally as well. Obviously Willow's intentions towards her went beyond thanks and friendship. Just the very thought of this was enough to make her want to run straight back out the hotel door. She didn't care how many bounty hunters would be waiting for her on the streets of Basin City, she just wanted to get away.

"Is there a shower in this joint?" Tara asked Faith, desperate to get away from Willow and hopeful of finally getting to shower in private after eight years.

"Yeah, sure thing, I'll show you…and we can probably rustle you up a room away from the business end of things so it's nice and quiet for ya," Faith nodded, their interaction earlier that evening forgotten, at least on her part.

"Make sure it's not next to Anya's room," Dawn quipped.

"Bite me," Anya growled angrily, retreating back up the stairs ahead of Faith and Tara.

Tara followed Faith, taking a last look at Willow over her shoulder. The young woman had finally allowed herself to take her eyes off her feet and had been staring at Tara's back. Her eyes widened slightly when Tara looked at her, as though she were surprised Tara had actually looked. Neither turned away, Tara continued to look even as she ascended the stairs. Little Willow Rosenberg, Tara's lips parted slightly at the sight of her standing down in the lobby. Her expression was somewhere between guilt and hope, but all Tara noticed was how small she was. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when she walked straight into Faith at the top of the landing. She looked up and met Faith's eyes defiantly.

"Eyes front blondie," Faith said as she continued up the stairs.

* * *

From the doorway of her own room, Willow had seen Tara slip out of the shower and make her way to the room Faith had made available for her. Tara's hair hung in wet strands down her back and she had a single white towel wrapped around her body. Willow watched the blonde's bare legs move with a graceful, stealthy beauty. Her eyes travelled up Tara's body to her shoulder where she saw one of the scars that she carried because of her. It was shock white and long-healed. Willow remembered watching Tara's partner pull the trigger. Her own tongue had frozen to the roof of her mouth in fear as she had been unable to call out. She had suffered the guilt of knowing that she could have warned her rescuer of the threat from behind. Willow sighed, she was determined to spend however long it too to repay Tara.

She waited a few minutes to give Tara a chance to make herself decent before padding down the hallway to stand in front of Tara's door with a cup of coffee in hand. She was poised with her hand about to rap on the door when there was a small cough from behind her. Willow spun to see Faith leaning against the wall.

"Give her some space kid."

"But it's Tara!" Willow protested as she held up the steaming cup of coffee in her hand. "And I thought she could use a coffee."

Willow stared longingly at the door that was separating her from Tara. There was so much she had to say and she wanted to say it all right then. Faith just crossed her arms and refused to budge on the matter.

"She's just got out of prison, you have no idea what that does to a person. Trust me, she'll be needing her space," Faith said softly, crossing the hall to stand just behind Willow.

Willow dropped her gaze to the floor and spoke in a sad voice. "But I'm the reason that she spent all those years there."

Faith put a hand on Willow's shoulder. "Which is why, when she's ready, she'll talk to you. But for now kid, you gotta let her be."

"Alright," Willow whispered, allowing herself to be led away from the door. "But you don't know everything…you don't know her."

"You don't know her either, Willow," Faith was quick to reply.

Willow snorted indignantly, stopping in the middle of the hallway to stare Faith down, "I know Tara!"

"The last time you saw her you were a twelve year old kid, how well could you possibly know her?" Faith demanded, trying to pry Willow out of her infatuation.

Willow wasn't about to back down. "You wouldn't understand…and you're not-"

Faith quickly interrupted, "Yeah, I know I'm not your mother, but I'm the closest thing you've ever had to one so it might pay for you to listen to me once in a while. Okay?"

Willow bit her lip and just nodded in response. Faith half-heartedly grinned and reached out to give her a pat on the cheek. Willow watched her walk away before her gaze travelled back down the hallway to Tara's door and then back to the coffee cup in her hand. As she stared at the liquid she realised she had no idea how Tara took her coffee, she had just guessed that it would be black. Perhaps Faith was right and she had no idea who that woman was. Willow sighed and made her way back to the kitchen. The only thing she knew for sure was the way she felt…and in this city, love was damn hard to come by.

* * *

**I listen to the voices outside my door, not quite hearing what they're saying. I just want them to go away. I stare at my reflection in the chipped little mirror hanging over the duchess. It's exactly the same face that I woke up to this morning while still in my cell. There's that same look in my eye, the same set to my jaw and that same damn scar…but something's changed and boy do I know why…little Willow Rosenberg. The kid saved my life…and more. I bring my fist crashing down on the edge of the duchess. It hurts and I'm glad. There shouldn't be more! What on earth have you gotten yourself in to? There can never be anything between you and her. You're an ex-cop who's done hard time for a violent act…hardly good credentials. You've got to get out of here, got to put some distance between yourself and that kid.**


	4. Stuff of Dreams

**Chapter Four**  
**Stuff of Dreams**

**I wake soaked in sweat and my hands immediately go to my neck where I expect to find large welts bruising the pale skin. Just moment ago I had felt Baby Dedara's fingers squeezing with merciless intent. I feel her fingers there still despite being fully awake. She's still with me, hiding in the shadows that surround me.**

**My heart's pounding like a freight train. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I struggle for air. **

**I draw in a couple of deep breaths. If I can just relax and let my heart slow down. **

**I manage to get it under control and it slows enough for me to get my bearings. I look around the room, the shadows pierced by shafts of moonlight streaming through the open blinds. This is not my cell, I'm not behind bars, and I'm safe…after a fashion. As I move to peel back the bed sheets I realise they're soaked through with sweat. I climb out of bed and my feet hit the cold floor with a soft thump. I don't think that I can sleep anyway. There's no way I'm going back to that place, or anywhere near that woman…even in my dreams.**

Tara's door opened with a creak and she stepped out into the hallway wearing just the white t-shirt and boxers that Faith had given her that evening. They revealed her well-toned body. Her darkly tanned arms a stark contrast to her pale white legs, usually covered up beneath her overalls. Her hair fell in bed-tossed waves down past her shoulders. For a moment she savoured the feeling of actually having her hair unbound. Due to the physical work or the fact that someone was likely to give it a hard yank out of sheer spite, her hair had spent much of the past 8 years swept back into a usually untidy ball of hair at the back of her head. She was surprised it hadn't turned grey and fallen out.

Tara began to walk down the dark hallway. She had no sense of direction within the Palace and therefore no actual destination, she just needed to walk. The halls were silent but Tara knew she was being watched from the shadows. She didn't care. Tara almost wanted to give them some sort of excuse to come at her with raised fists or perhaps shoot her in the back and be done with it. Although if she were given the choice, she wasn't even sure which option she would choose.

As she walked her stomach let out a furious growl. Tara realised just how famished she was. She passed more doors spaced at regular intervals along the corridor before reaching the end which terminated at a single door. Tentatively, she reached out and twisted the knob, the door opened inwards without a sound. At first her eyes met nothing but darkness. Gradually they adjusted, aided by thin strips of moonlight finding their way through badly drawn curtains. She found herself in a sitting room of sorts. The squat shapes were actually a motley assortment of couches. A pool table stood on one side of the room - cues were laid atop it as though someone had just put them down. Tara crossed the short distance to it and ran one hand over the smooth wooden sides. As she moved she glanced around, hoping to spy the squat shape of a refrigerator in the darkness but there was none to be seen. Her stomach growled again as though it too realised this. She continued past the pool table to one of the windows. Her fingers reached out and drew one back, revealing moonlit rooftops and dark city streets. Old town was obviously not a well-lit place. As she stood gazing out at view she was surprised to find the place looked almost pretty. The darkness hid the most depressing aspects, and the moonlight gave it a gleaming shine that it definitely lacked during the day. Tara folded her arms across her chest as goosebumps appeared on her skin. For the most part she ignored the cold, lost within her own thoughts…until a small voice interrupted them.

"Can't sleep either?"

Tara didn't have to look over her shoulder to know exactly who it was, she exhaled a shallow but troubled breath to try and calm herself. She kept her eyes on the night sky beyond the window. A part of her willed the other person to leave and another part wished more than anything that they would stay. She closed her eyes slowly in an effort to stop her heart beating at a million miles an hour before she spoke.

"Hello, Willow," Tara replied quietly, opening her eyes once more.

From the corner of her eye she saw the small redhead join her at the window. She watched as Willow bounced lightly on the balls of her feet as though she were impatiently waiting for something. Tara had known the moment she met Willow as a school child that she was not one to stay still. She remembered Willow constantly bounding to her feet or raising her hand in the air to ask yet another question. The two of them stood side by side awkwardly. Both had much to say, although where one was fairly bursting with the unspoken words, the other buried them deep down as far as she could.

One of them moved first. Tara looked down in surprise to see Willow's thin arms around her waist. She felt her small body pressed against her back, pelvis snug against her arse. For just a few seconds Tara luxuriated in the feeling of a warm body pressed against her own. She savoured everything about it, Willow's warmth, her hands pressed against her stomach and her small breasts pressed...

"Kid, please don't…" Tara suddenly twisted out of Willow's embrace and spun to end up standing face to face with her.

As Tara looked down at Willow she realised she had ended up in the worst possible situation that she had told herself to avoid at all costs. Alone with Willow and in a darkened room no less. She took a step backwards but even as she did she could appreciate that the situation was also rather ridiculous. Here was Tara Maclay, tough as nails ex-cop who had survived eight years of hell on earth in prison, backing away from a skinny little kid wearing a pair of pale green pyjamas. The colour made her hair vibrant even in the semi-darkness. The pyjamas were several sizes too big for her, as though they were hand me downs. The plunging neckline revealed her creamy chest but kept the breasts, which Tara had moments ago felt against her back, safely hidden. Even in the wrong-size pyjamas, Tara could see little Willow Rosenberg was no longer a kid.

However, as Willow ducked her head and bit her lip, she continuing to fidget, her fingers playing with one of the buttons on her shirt. Tara sighed, there was still more than a little bit of kid left in her. It was maddeningly adorable.

Willow finally looked up at Tara, an adult measure of impatience registering on her features. "Would you say something?"

"I have nothing to say," Tara replied bluntly, trying to regain some sense of herself.

The ex-cop quickly resumed her former posture facing out the window, arms crossed over her chest as though she were trying to keep something in…or out. Tara was effectively telling Willow the truth. She had nothing to say to her because she honestly had no idea what to say. Willow was predictably not impressed with the answer.

"You have nothing to say in general or you have nothing to say to me?" Willow suspected it was a case of both, with an emphasis on the latter. "I don't understand Tara. Why are you going all avoidy on me? I told you how much I've missed you and all I get in return is a blank stare. Surely you must realise that I-"

Tara interrupted Willow before she could say the three words she knew would be the death of her, "I know you're grateful to me Willow and you helped get me out of prison. I don't demand anything more of you in return. What more do you want from me?"

"I want you," Willow replied simply, talking to Tara's back as the blonde refused to turn and face her.

She had to make do with studying Tara's bland and expressionless reflection in the window. It was like talking to a ghost; a particularly silent ghost at that.

"You can't have me," Tara replied bluntly, her features remaining expressionless. "I'm too old for you."

"Age be damned!" Willow protested indignantly. She frowned. "Just how old are you anyway?"

Tara wasn't about to be swayed. "I'm several lifetimes older than you, Willow."

**It sounds harsh and it is. I'm blunt and I have to be. This is the moment, if I can convince Willow to forget about me now then I will be free. There's only so much of her attention that I can bear before surrendering to temptation. I continue to stare out the window, refusing to look at her face. I can't tell if she's upset or if there are tears threatening to roll down her face. I hope she cries. It makes me feel like shit, but I want to hurt her badly enough to get this infatuation out of her head. **

"Didn't you see me dance? I'm not a child anymore," Willow growled. "So you can't use that bullshit line with me."

Willow was angry that Tara had decided to play the obvious age difference between them; it was irrelevant in her opinion.

Tara did not reply straight away. Of course she had seen Willow dance and that was a large part of the problem.

"How did you end up in this sort of lifestyle?" Tara asked quietly.

"This sort of lifestyle?" Willow fired the question back at Tara. "What are you insinuating by that?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Willow."

"Look, Tara," Willow began, feeling the conversation slipping completely out of control. "I dance, I'm not a whore."

Tara sighed sadly. "From the company you keep I would say otherwise,"

Willow felt like screaming in frustration. Tara's calm, blunt and pointedly brief answers were infuriating, "What? You mean Faith, Buffy, Dawn, Anya and the others? Tara, those women are the only people besides you who had ever been kind or good to me. I love them for what they've done and continue to do for me. Who they are has nothing to do with how I feel about them. They're my family, I feel safe here."

"Here? Willow, 'here' is a whore house!" Tara finally spun around to face Willow, her voice rising for the first time. "My understanding was that you were going to a foster family."

Willow gave Tara a look taken straight from Faith's handbook. "My foster family kicked me out on my own when I was fifteen."

Tara's jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. "Willow? Why would they do that? How could they do that?"

Willow arched her eyebrow and replied testily. "It was all very simple really, they walked in on me fucking their daughter and I was out of there faster than they could say 'you're a dyke and you're going straight to hell.'"

"Willow please stop cussing," Tara whispered, struggling to maintain eye contact with Willow.

Tara's fists clenched at her side and eventually she did turn her head, pretending that she was intensely interested in the view once again. It took her a few moments to realise that she was not angry at Willow for swearing, but rather she was jealous of the object of fifteen year old Willow's affection or at least, attention. She realised that the question of whether Willow had loved the other girl was burning a hole in her mind.

Willow merely thought Tara was entrenching even further within herself and she was not ready to let up, "Why the fuck not, Tara? Because it's another reminder that I'm not a child? How many more reminders do you need? What is it going to take for me to convince you that I'm a woman and I'm in love with you? In love with you not out of gratitude or guilt but because you're the most amazing woman in my life and the only argument you can come up with in return in that you're too old for me? I'm sorry Tara, but I'm not satisfied with that. I think, seeing who I am now, you feel exactly the same way."

**I haven't been in her life for eight years, and before that I was barely a part of it and now…what the fuck do you call this mess I'm in now?**

"Would you say something? Instead of standing there like you're made of stone. I know you're not made of stone. I remember you laughing when you visited us at school…well, maybe not laughing, but you used to smile and that smile was gorgeous!" Willow desperately searched for a reaction from Tara and received none, she tried a different approach. "At least you should be able to say you don't love me…I reckon it should be pretty easy for a tough old cop like yourself to say a few little words."

Willow threw down the ultimate challenge, and she knew it. As soon as the words left her lips she discreetly bit her lip, it was the most rotten trick she could have pulled on Tara and she immediately regretted it. She reached out a shaking hand and laid it on Tara's upper arm. Tara wrenched her arm away in one brutal movement. In that same movement she also wrenched Willow's heart.

"Don't do this to me, Willow," Tara groaned in a small whisper. "And don't do this to yourself."

Tara backed away from Willow, hands raised in front of her as though to ward her off. She looked as though she desperately wanted to say something, however, her lips moved but no sound came out. She eventually threw down in hands as though frustrated at her inability to speak the words she wanted to say. Willow then watched Tara run from the room without actually physically breaking into a run. The redhead was left standing by the window alone with the painful knowledge that their conversation had not exactly progressed the way she had imagined.

* * *

Tara had slammed the door behind her as she left the room. She slammed it hard as if her leaving in the first place did not give enough indication that she did not want to be followed. As she was half way back to her hotel room, she suddenly found her path blocked by Faith, Buffy and another of the ladies, an Uzi toting woman wearing a cop's hat. Buffy had in her deadly hands not only one of her katana, but also the leather collar of a jacket. The jacket was on the back of a rather defiant looking man. She threw him to the floor and delivered a firm kick in the small of his back to send him flying face first into the carpet. Faith reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back so they could all get a good look at his face.

Faith looked up at Tara and frowned at the tortured expression she found on the blonde's face. Although there were any number of explanations behind that expression, Faith knew it was not due to the most sensible. Tara may have just escaped from a life sentence but it was a skinny little redhead that was eating her up from the inside.

"Do you know this guy?" Faith returned to the matter at hand.

"Huh?" Tara looked as though all she wanted to do was throw herself from the nearest window.

"Do you know this guy?" Faith repeated, cuffing the prisoner over the back of his head.

Tara glanced down at the face of the man Faith held, he glared back at her defiantly. She didn't spare him more than a second, a two bit crook of the type she would have packed off to the slammer in a heartbeat back when she was still a cop. He was nobody. She shook her head in Faith's direction.

"Never seen him before. Why?"

"Cos he says he's got a message for you," Faith replied.

Tara's eyebrows rose slightly. "Well?"

The man laughed chokingly, "I've got a message for you, Tara Maclay."

Tara crossed the floor in two powerful strides, kneeling down before the man, "I think we've gathered that already you piece of shit, now what's the message?"

"It's from Glory Talbot."

"I guessed as much. Obviously she's not setting me up on a date with her son so what does that murdering bitch want?" Tara felt like herself once more, she had a problem she could deal with.

"You," he replied.

Tara snorted quietly, "Seems that's what everyone wants at the moment…the short answer is I'm not available and you can take that back to your Madam Talbot with my fucking compliments."

"If you don't hand yourself over…she's declaring open war on Old Town, the cops will swarm here like flies on stink," he replied, glancing up at Faith with another chuckle.

Faith glanced across to her fellow Ladies with narrow eyes. The very thought was inconceivable…Old Town was a safe haven. The Ladies didn't mess with the cops, and the cops didn't mess with the Ladies, that was the law and the uneasy truce that kept the whole place hanging together. If either side stepped over the line then all hell would break loose.

"They wouldn't dare!" the Lady wearing the cop hat hissed, gripping the handle of her Uzi with white knuckled fingers.

"And they won't, Lola," Faith slammed the man's head into the carpet and then let his hair go, wiping her hands on her jacket with a look of distaste.

**I watch Faith rise slowly to her feet, keeping her eyes on me the whole time. Behind her, Buffy does the same and I watch that wicked looking knife of hers like my life depends on it. These women aren't my friends, and the sooner I realise that the better off I'll be. I reckon they'll hand me over to Glory in a heartbeat, especially to keep the peace. Open war or handing over one tired ex-cop? It's a fucking dead cert.**

Faith continued, "They won't because Glory knows if her goons or the cops so much as put a toe onto our turf with ill intentions then we'll cut them up so bad the streets will run red with blood, and you can bet your arses it won't be Ladies blood!"

Beside her Buffy gave one sharp nod.

**If I hear it right, they're gonna protect me…maybe Willow's right and I'm short-changing these women…even so, they're a bunch of crazy, suicidal broads.**

"Don't be stupid, they'll come in here with so much manpower you won't stand a chance," Tara spoke the truth and everyone knew it.

The door at the other end of the hall opened. Tara didn't need to turn around, Willow's smell filled the air and she heard the girl's footsteps pounding along the hall with urgency. They stopped just behind Tara, so close Tara could hear Willow breathing.

"There's no way we're handing Tara over to her!" Willow growled firmly.

**They're a pack of goddamn heroes, and I hate to see it rubbing off on Willow. I imagine her going down in a hail of cop bullets and it hurts like fuck.**

"No one's saying that Willow, now go back to bed," Faith pointed one finger in the direction of Willow's room at the other end of the hall.

Tara didn't see the expression on Willow's face but knew it was one of protest when she saw the reply expression on Faith's face. The brunette raised her eyebrows and glared in a commanding manner. Tara felt Willow move past her before she saw her. She then watched the redhead's back as she moved past them all without a glance back over her shoulder. Tara watched Willow move away from them, her hips swinging in those green pyjamas of hers, red hair flowing free over her back. She disappeared through a door down in the darkness at the other end of the hall and Tara turned her attention back to the scum at her feet. By now he had dragged himself to a kneeling position, one foot forward as though he were prepared to spring to his feet. He was looking over his shoulder, up at Faith.

"So what's your answer whore? What word should I take back to Madam Talbot?" he asked, obviously impatient to be out of the Palace.

"What word?" Faith cocked her head to one side, "'Cos I'm so fucking generous, she can have several, 'Keep the fuck out of Old Town!'"

"It's your funeral bitches!" he sneered in reply, standing all the way up with a slight stagger.

Tara clenched her fist. "And this is from me."

In one powerful movement, she drew back her fist and let it go. It smashed into the guys jaw, dislodging teeth and sending them flying in a cloud of blood to the carpet. He fell backwards into the arms of Faith and Lola. Faith smirked across at Tara.

"Take this creep outside and send him on his way real nice like," she commanded Buffy and Lola, "Make sure he gets out of Old Town safe, we wouldn't want something nasty happening to him before he gets to deliver his message."

Tara watched as the two women half-dragged the man back out the way they had come, she watched until they disappeared and found herself alone in the hallway with Faith. The whore stood with one hand on her hip, a pose so maddeningly confident it made Tara ache.

"You'll soon see that we're not who you think we are," Faith said in Tara's direction, she was not boasting but rather making a simple statement of fact. "Whether you like it or not, we're going out on a limb for you."

**I don't reply. Call me a rude, ungrateful bitch but my time in prison has made me cynical. All this self-righteous heroism makes me sick. When will they realise that it all counts for nothing? My throat is as dry as hell and I realise I need something to drink, something that burns. I push past Faith with the intention of going back to my room, pulling some clothes on, and getting the hell out of here.**


	5. Playing Nurse

**Chapter Five  
****Playing Nurse**

**I find a spot at the bar. God knows where this dive actually is, it's not in Old Town that's for sure and I'm glad. I down another shot and set the glass down with the others. There are quite a few of them and it's the only way I can tell I've had too much to drink. Head feels fine except for the fact its working overtime, too much thinking. I know that's bad because too much thinking will get a person killed.**

Tara caught the bartender's eye which wasn't hard as she was one of only two customers seated at the bar. The other was a dark shape huddled at the far end that hadn't moved in the past hour. She nodded towards her empty shot glass, indicating for it to be filled yet again. The stony-faced man grabbed the bottle of Jack from the shelf behind him and poured into Tara's glass, filling it just shy of overflowing. Tara nodded her thanks and studied the glass intently.

She knew she should leave, get the hell out of Basin City and never look back. The best idea would be for her to find the smallest corner of the biggest city and wait until the heat over her escape died down. That thought made Tara smirk. If Glory continued to be involved she would probably have to spend the next decade or two in hiding, not much of a life. Still, it was better than the alternative of staying in Old Town and being responsible for an all out war. She knew Glory wouldn't even have to pull too many strings to do it. Cops loved hunting down escaped prisoners and Tara suspected that she was number one on Basin City's 'Most Wanted' list thanks to the influence of a certain madam. The cops would storm Old Town, they'd be pissed as hell when the Ladies started fighting back and they'd kill and rape without mercy. There was no way in hell Tara was letting that happen while Willow was in Old Town…and a part of her also felt responsible for the other women despite the fact that it went against her better judgement.

**I start reaching for the drink, despite the amount I've consumed I still want to feel another one slip down my throat. I pause with my arm half outstretched as a thought runs through my mind. What the hell is keeping me here? I should leave, now, I have nothing to pack, I have no money but there are ways around that. I'd pay a visit to my ex, she'd help me out for old time's sake and I'd be on a bus within the hour. But I'm not leaving…**

**I'm still here because I know Glory will have her cops storm Old Town regardless of whether I am there or not. I could broadcast my absence to the bloody heavens and she'd still come in guns blazing. She knows Willow's here and if she can't have me, she'll get Willow. I'll give myself up, that's the only way out of this. It'll save Willow and Old Town and the only price to pay is an ex-cop who isn't worth a damn anyway.**

**But I'm not on my way to do that either, something Faith said got to me and made me realise these women don't give up their own lightly. For the fucked up reason that Willow loves me, I'm one of them by association and they're prepared to go to war for me. How can I say no to a gesture light that? Catch 22. I'm fucked whatever way I look at it.**

Tara began reaching for the shot once more but a rude, gruff voice interrupted her with one word.

"Maclay?"

"What?" Tara growled, not bothering to look up.

"Tara Maclay?"

"Who gives a fuck who I am?" her fingers closed around the shot glass

A massive hand slammed down on the bar and sent the liquid splashing out of the glass. It was only then that Tara looked over her shoulder with a stormy expression. Standing directly behind her was a solidly built man, a scraggly beard attached to his pockmarked face. He smiled and showed her several gold teeth behind his fat lips. At his shoulder was a taller, whip-thin man, so pale he was almost white. The one in front stepped even closer to Tara sitting on her stool and lifted his hand to his coat.

"I do…and so does Glory Talbot." Tara saw him pull back his coat slightly and she felt the hard barrel of a pistol jabbed into the small of her back. "Let's step outside so we don't disturb the other folks having a quiet drink."

"Sure thing...after you buy me another shot?" Tara indicated her spilt drink with a nod of her head.

With added malice, the bounty hunter rammed the pistol barrel into her back with an impressive display of strength. Tara did not even wince as she swivelled around on her stool and swung her legs to the floor. She stood and the squat man met the full force of her most intense gaze. If it intimidated him, his bearded face did not change in the slightest.

"Outside!"

"Okay, okay, don't get your jock strap in a twist," Tara replied, allowing him to shove her towards the door.

No one paid the slightest attention to the trio as they left the bar. Both thugs stayed behind Tara, letting her lead them out. The cold air hit Tara in the face as she moved outdoors and stood in the dirty alleyway, a small smile on her face as she sensed the two of them fan out behind her. With the patience of one who had seen it all, Tara bided her time and waited for the right moment.

"Check her for weapons," the leader motioned to his pale companion with a wave of his stubby arm.

With a lecherous sneer the pale thug stepped towards Tara, he pressed his hand against her chest and threw her back against the wall behind her. Tara snarled and swiped his hand away with one of her own. He immediately recovered and slammed her back with all his might, moving his face so close to hers that she could smell the cheeseburger on his breath. With his free hand he began patting her down, taking his time in a thorough search.

"I'm not armed," Tara growled. "So you can get your filthy little hands off me before I rip your throat out!"

His pale face instantly morphed into a vision of rage at Tara's non-compliance. In a rather jerky, unprofessional movement he withdrew his weapon from the holster at his hip. Tara smirked when she saw the gold-plated monstrosity he was wielding, all show and no purpose. Even so, he levelled the weapon directly at the bridge of her nose. Tara knew he was completely capable of pulling the trigger. It would all be over, her brains splattered over the wall behind her.

"I'm gonna do you right now bitch!" he spluttered, his voice heavy with fake posturing. "You can't talk to us…to me like dat and spect to git away wit it!"

Tara did not care what he was saying; the words were unimportant and flowed right over her. What she did care about was where his partner was standing just off to the left and the fact that he had re-holstered his weapon. While keeping one eye on her surroundings, Tara kept the other on the lunatic with the golden gun pointed at her face. She watched the muzzle of the gun dance around with the cadence of his words, half the time it was pointed at the wall above her head.

**The guy's all over the place, waving his gun around like he's fucking dancing instead of trying to threaten someone. It's not threatening in the least, I'd laugh if he wasn't such a fucking lunatic. But it's the lunatics you've got to watch out for. They're unpredictable and don't give a damn about consequences. I'm not sure if their orders are to kill me or take me in alive, but it doesn't matter. Either way, they're not getting what they want. In fact, I'm bored, a bit drunk, my lack of sleep is catching up on me and I'm feeling more than a little reckless. Time to put a stop to this nonsense.**

"Wha' chu gonna say to dat bitch?" the lunatic jerked his weapon once again, failing to keep it trained on Tara.

"Goodnight," Tara replied in a deadpan voice.

She surged forward in one smooth movement and her hands moved upward to claim a strong grip on his arm. Before he had time to fire Tara had spun him around and jerked his arm up, forcing him to drop the gun into her waiting hand.

"What the-" the fat guy fumbled for his weapon as the events unfolded before him.

As he drew his pistol and brought it to bear on Tara, she fired one shot from his partners gold plated weapon. He let out a blood curdling scream and his gun clattered to the pavement along with his thumb. The weapon lay dented and useless as he jammed his wounded hand beneath his armpit in an effort to stop the bleeding. Still retaining her hold on the thin man in her arms, Tara ejected the clip from his weapon with one hand and it fell to the ground. She tossed the gun itself into a nearby dumpster.

With the guns out of the equation, Tara turned her attention to the guys themselves. She grunted as the lunatic in her arms shoved his elbow backwards into her stomach. Winded, Tara's hold relaxed enough for him to twist his way out of her grasp. Once free, he delivered an uppercut to her jaw. He lacked the muscle to do any real damage but Tara's head snapped back with the impact. Shaking it off, she brought her own fists to bear and replied with a combination of her own to his head and stomach that sent him reeling straight back into his partner. Both men tumbled over one another and landed in a heap on the pavement.

The thug with a missing thumb angrily shoved his dazed partner aside and struggled to his feet. He lurched forward groggily, bloody spattering everywhere from his hand. He made a wild swing with his left with Tara avoided easily. She ducked and moved around his arm to deliver a swift kick to the side of his knee. There was a sickening crack as the knee snapped out of place. He dropped onto the wounded knee and squealed in pain as Tara calmly walked around him, keeping one eye on his partner who was beginning to rise out of his daze.

He was slipping face first into the ground and Tara helped him on his way with another powerful kick to the back of his head. His face slammed into the concrete, his nose breaking and blood splashing out on either side of him. He made no further move. As she spun around to deal with the remaining thug she was forced to dance backwards from an angry swipe directed at her face. The guy had pulled a knife from his boot. Tara winced as the tip of the blade caught her at her scalp line, she felt it slice through the thin skin. She felt the trickle of warm blood flow over her forehead and into her eye. Her opponent laughed, buoyed by the sight of blood and his slashing attack continued in earnest. His aim was erratic, driven by his anger rather than any skill. Tara kept him at an arms length, darting or ducking away from each swipe with time to spare.

There was limited room in the alleyway. Tara was fully aware of her surroundings and the placement on her feet on the rubbish-strewn ground. Her opponent was no so lucky; he slipped on the decomposing corpse of a cat. He flew forward and Tara only managed to twist slightly before he slammed into her body. She felt a searing pain in her side as she lifted one knee and shoved him aside. As he fell, the knife clattered to the pavement, its blade covered with blood. Tara angrily kicked it as hard as she could and it clattered several metres before coming to rest in a pile of refuse.

She was on the fallen thug in an instant, her fists flying in a flurry of controlled blows aimed mostly at his head.

**I don't know what my body is operating on, adrenaline and rage mostly. It's the thought of this guy or someone very like him doing to Willow what he had just tried to do to me. The rapid blows are killing my knuckles, but I don't care.**

After several blows he was reduced to cowering on his knees with his arms over his head in a vain effort to stop them coming into contact with his head. Eventually, after one blow too many, he slumped to the pavement unconscious, his face a bloody mess. Tara took a step backwards and then another which was more of a stumble. Her head reeled and her body lurched sideways uncontrollably. She slammed into the dumpster like a drunkard. As she stood clinging to it, feeling incredibly dizzy, she knew she had to get away from the scene as soon as possible and back to Old Town. It was the only place where she could be sure the cops wouldn't get to her…yet. With a grunt she straightened herself up and looked at her handwork.

"Morons," Tara said to the pair of bodies.

As she stepped over the motionless body of the pale thug, she reached down and swiped the cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. Tara slid one from the pack as she continued walking and placed it between her lips, pausing for a moment before she lit it. It had been eight years since her last cigarette, smoked on that fateful night before her meeting with Talbot Junior. With one hand, Tara flicked the lighter open and watched the flame dance for a few moments. She stopped just short of lighting it, with a regretful sigh she snapped the lighter closed and pocketed it. She plucked the unlit cigarette from her lips and tossed it in the gutter along with the rest of the pack.

* * *

Being the stubborn individual that she was, Tara waved aside the rather half-hearted offer of help from the guards on the front door of the Golden Palace. It was nearing six am and the halls were mercifully empty. Tara didn't want to face any questions, especially from Faith.

Tara was vaguely aware that she was that she was bleeding all over the carpet as she half-dragged herself through the Palace. Although she decided that it mattered little when she glanced downwards and saw the carpet was already a deep, blood red. She made her way back to the room she had exited hastily a few hours earlier. During her brief glance around she had seen a first aid cabinet in there. When she entered the room she found it bathed in artificial light and a single occupant seated on the floor, sandwiched between one of the many couches and a solid coffee table. It was Willow, in front of her sat a large pile of books nearly completely covering the table. Se had obviously been writing before Tara interrupted her, a pile of different coloured pens lay at her elbow. There was a smudge of green at the corner of her mouth, probably as a result of chewing on her green pen. Willow was now staring up at Tara with a rather worried expression on her face as though she had been caught doing something terribly wrong. She hurriedly began gathering up her pens and papers.

"I'm sorry…I'll get out of your hair, just give me a moment to clear all this junk away."

Tara glanced at the books and papers nearest her. 'Criminal Law' was sitting beside a small sheaf of excruciatingly neat study notes. It was clear Willow made excellent use of her different coloured pens to organise the notes according to a system all of her own creation. The redhead was flustered as she tried to pick everything up at once, several of her pens were knocked to the floor. Tara bent to retrieve them.

"It's not rubbish…and you don't have to pack up on my account," Tara paused halfway through returning the pens as she realised she had smeared blood across their shafts.

Willow saw the pens and immediately looked up at Tara, her jaw dropped slightly at the sight of the bloody wound on the blonde's forehead. She started to get to her feet and Tara held out her hand,

"Stay put…I'm just patching myself up."

Willow dropped her armload of books to the table, they landed with a dull thud. The sound was akin to Tara's heart beating in response to the concern in Willow's eyes.

"You're hurt," Willow squeaked. "I mean, mortally wounded, 'hurt' is an understatement! How much blood have you lost? You're not going to keel over are you? Who did this to you? Just tell me and I'll have Faith make them wish they'd never laid eyes on you!"

"It's nothing, they came out far worse off than me," Tara wasn't sure whether she was reassuring Willow or herself.

Tara gently placed the blood-smeared pens on the table and rose to her feet as if to show Willow she was still capable of standing. She crossed to the First Aid cabinet fixed to the wall by the door. Willow waited mere seconds before scrambling to her feet and dashing to Tara's side just in case she did collapsed. Another whether she would have actually been able to catch her was another matter entirely. All she could do was look on anxiously as Tara selected supplies from the small cabinet.

"Tell me what to do, that cut on your head looks nasty. I can stitch you up, I'm pretty good at sewing…well, actually I'm terrible but I do have a steady hand."

Tara turned to Willow and dumped a pile of medical supplies into her arms. She have her a look that was almost a little rueful and took up a perch on the arm of a couch.

"You still babble," Tara commented, remembering the school kid that wouldn't shut up.

With one arm cradling packets of bandages and plasters, Willow dragged a stool across to Tara's side with the other.

"I never babble," Willow replied quietly, she paused speaking to rip open a packet of gauze with her teeth. She lifted her head to find Tara giving her a level stare and she broke, admitting her sin. "Okay, sometimes when I get excited, or nervous, or upset…okay, I do it a lot but I have a lot to say!"

Willow expected to at least provoke a smile from Tara but one was not forthcoming. Mildly irritated, Willow applied a liberal amount of disinfectant to the gauze and pressed it to the cut on Tara's forehead with no warning. Again the expected reaction did not emerge. Tara sat stoically without so much as flinching. Willow gave up and concentrated on cleaning the dried blood from around Tara's wound.

"Hmmm," she noted thoughtfully. "It's not as bad as I first thought. It shouldn't need stitches, just a thorough clean and a dressing."

Tara's eyebrows raised in mild surprise at Willow's efficient appraisal. "And after all your babbling, I thought you would faint on me."

"I thought you were going to faint. I'm not a babbling imbecile Tara," Willow grunted in annoyance at her own choice of words. "Okay, we've establish that I babble…but I'm not an imbecile!"

"I never said you were-"

"Just hard to accept an adult appraisal of the situation coming from me?" Willow shot back.

"No, not at all," Tara replied a little too quickly.

Willow placed down the bloodied gauze and set about cutting small lengths of tape.

"Stop lying," Willow argued as she pressed a fresh swatch of gauze to Tara's forehead and jammed the tape in place, she was satisfied when Tara winced noticeably. "There, it's not pretty but it'll do."

"Thanks a lot," Tara reached up to feel the snug little dressing with the tips of her fingers.

As she did so, Willow saw Tara's bruised and bloodied knuckles, another reminder of the vicious fight. Without a word, she reached out and took Tara's hand in her own. For the briefest of moments she held the hand gently. It was under the pretence of examining the wound but both Willow and Tara felt something more to it. However, just as the air was at its quietest and their eyes met above their shared touch, Willow turned her attention to the disinfectant and gauze. She didn't say a word before she began cleaning Tara's wounds.

"You seem to have had some practice?" Tara commented, watching Willow's deft and gentle little movements as she cleaned the blood from her hands, it still stung like hell but it was made bearable.

"What? At cleaning people up after vicious back alley fights?" Willow shook her head. "Not really no, Faith and the others pretty much keep me shielded from that sort of thing…even though I feel as though I would like to get in on it sometimes."

As Willow cleaned the raw knuckles, Tara watched her face. Her nose was wrinkled slightly in concentration as she focused on the task. Tara was able to study the curve of her cheek and the smattering of freckles across her cheek. She had the maddening urge to reach out and stroke the skin, to find out if it was really as soft as it appeared. Another thought crossed into Tara's mind, one which had been plaguing her since their previous discussion. Before she could stop herself, words formed on her lips and then vomited forth from her mouth, almost unbidden.

"Did you l-love her? Tara asked suddenly, gritting her teeth at her childhood stammer reappearing in her voice.

"Who?" Willow paused during her ministrations and looked Tara in the eye with a confused expression.

"The girl you got kicked out of your foster family for, your foster-sister," Tara replied, wishing she had taken it back instead.

She watched the furrow's on Willow's brow deepen as she struggled with her reply. Willow let go of her hand, the little piece of bloodied gauze carefully held between the tips of her fingers.

It eventually tumbled out fairly quickly, as though she were reassuring Tara. "Why are you bringing that up? Tara, I…no, no I didn't love her."

"Why not, there was obviously something there, to risk being kicked out of your home for her," Tara couldn't stop herself as she continue to bait Willow, not even entirely sure as to why she was doing it.

"I don't see what this line of questioning has got to do with anything," Willow retorted, revealing her many hours spent reading legal texts, she continued in a taut voice. "But for your edification since you seem to want to know so badly, I was fifteen and exploring my sexuality. Especially in order to come to terms with something I had always suspected…that I was gay. And I was fucking horny! You don't need to be in love to fuck someone, Tara. I would think someone like you would know that."

At that moment Tara was wondering where Willow had disappeared to and just who sat in front of her. However, as she watched tears moisten the corner of Willow's eyes she knew that girl hadn't gone anywhere. A heavy sigh escaped Tara's lips as she fervently wished the topic had never been raised. It had however served to confirm her worst fears…and greatest hope.

"Why do you even care?" Willow asked in a whisper, interrupting Tara's line of thought.

"I-I…" Tara began before forcing herself to stop and think about her words, and to avoid lurching into a sentence composed entirely of stutters.

**I bit my lip. Goddamn this girl! I instantly imagined that I had been transported back in time when I too was a teenager. An awkward, stuttering girl who was also trying to come to terms with who she was. Scratch that image, that's not me anymore. I haven't been that girl for a long time. I'm strong, independent and confident goddammit…then why do I feel like a little kid? She driving me nuts and I've finally come to the realisation that there's only one solution.**

"Willow, I have to tell you something…"

Tara paused mid-sentence, wondering why the room was spinning all of a sudden. In her daze her mind flashed back to the fight in the alleyway and the pale thug stumbling and falling into her. She remembered the piercing pain at her side, and the knife clattering to the ground. With trembling hands she felt her side, another pain which almost drove her to pass out. When she looked at her fingers they were covered in blood. She looked up at Willow to see the redhead's face drained of colour. It was the last thing she saw as her vision collapsed into darkness and she slipped to the floor unconscious.

* * *

The priceless Ming vase flew across the room in its last moments as an intact object before hitting a doorframe and smashing into dozens of pieces with a sickening sound. One man who had ducked as it passed over his head turned and stared at it for a few moments before quickly returning his gaze to the woman standing in front of a huge, antique desk. She had been leaning back against it casually before her sudden and violent outburst, now she strode forward with a purpose and backhanded the unfortunate man across the face. His head snapped to one side but he quickly righted himself. He stood staunchly in his cop uniform despite being faced with a beast of savage beauty who circled him like a predator.

"Captain Amai, you promised me that this little problem would be over and done with in twenty-four hours. Well, your time is up and I don't see any sign of that blonde bitch surrendering herself on my doorstep…so where the fuck is she?" Glory Talbot demanded, spittle flying to land on Captain Amai's handsome, chiselled face.

The police officer met her gaze with apprehension now showing in his eyes and his voice reflected this, "W-we underestimated the Ladies of Old Town Madam Talbot."

Glory fumed and slapped him on the other cheek. "What do you mean by underestimated?" she demanded in a harsh voice.

He gulped as he straightened himself once again, his cheeks reddening. "As a rule the Ladies keep to themselves, they staunchly protect their own…and only their own. We expected them to give Maclay up with the threat to their truce…we were…wrong and they've chosen to protect her."

"No shit," Glory grumbled, pacing backwards and forwards in front of Amai. "And those goons you sent after her were pathetic. An effort worthy of a two-bit drug dealer and I'm very, very disappointed."

Amai's eyes bulged at her tone. "We'll double our efforts! Give me another twenty-four hours and I'll drag that bitch in front of you personally!"

Glory glared directly at him. "Don't bother trying. It's more likely that Maclay will drag your lifeless body in front of me…hmm, tempting…but no. Get out of my sight before I get the urge to have you killed…and I'm very close to having that urge."

Amai hastily nodded his head, backing out of the room to keep his eyes on Glory. She watched him leave and heard the panicked footsteps as his pace quickened once he had safely escaped the room. A shape moved from the shadows behind Glory and a small smile crossed her face.

"Bleedin' pathetic that was." A thick English accent sounded forth from the figure.

Glory turned to regard the dark-clothed man, his bleached blonde hair and pale skin standing out a stark contrast to the rest of him. Beneath his tapered black jeans and muscle shirt, his body was whipcord thin and taut, ready for action. A lazy smile spread across his features as he waited his mistresses bidding.

"Spike, be a darling and sort out this little mess for me?" she asked pleadingly in a little girl voice.

His smile widened to show pearl white teeth and he replied simply, "My pleasure."

"First things first…would you mind seeing Captain Amai out of the building?"

Spike withdrew a wicked looking knife from a sheath at his belt and twirled it on the flat of his hand before deftly catching it once more. He walked past Glory and followed the unfortunate Captain from the room, the grin still fixed on his face.


	6. Silver Screen Dame

**Chapter Six  
****Silver Screen Dame**

**Outside the window the night is a washed out black with the moonlight rendering it less threatening somehow. Should've been spending the time sleeping, recuperating, but my goddamn nightmares won't let up. I may not be spending the rest of my life behind bars physically, but my mind is sure gonna give it a good try. **

**I shift the slightest fraction and the wound in my side lets me know exactly how bad an idea that is. The stitches feel as though they're trying to rip out of my skin. Even so, I sit up slightly, enough to feel like I'm sitting up instead of lying down. Lying on your back for an entire day isn't my idea of a good time and I'm mad as hell...and possibly slightly insane. **

**In my boredom my mind inevitably shifts back to the conversation I was having with Willow before I passed out. Fuck knows why I want to torture myself with something I want so badly to ignore. Damn kid almost had me being honest, baring my fucking feelings. I find myself wishing I could've retained consciousness a few minutes more, just long enough to set her straight. There's knock at my door and I know it's her. I invite her in, half-expecting to be presented with a 'get-well' card drawn in those damn different coloured pens of hers.**

Willow entered Tara's room with a heavily laden tray rather than a get-well card. Carefully balancing it with both hands, she moved to the foot of the bed and stood a little awkwardly. She didn't quite want to look up at Tara but nor could she take her eyes off her.

"I know this is a stupid question, you lying in bed with a stab wound and all, but how are you?" Willow spoke quietly but there was a definite effort in her voice to at least sound cheerful.

Tara watched the tiniest attempt at a smile flicker across Willow's face. She responded with a weak one of her own - tired, sore and starving as she was, the smile came out more like a grimace.

"I'm better…almost peachy," Tara replied, eying up the tray Willow carried with barely concealed longing.

Willow brightened as the answer seemed to amuse her. "I'm glad, because for a moment there I thought you were going to die, you know, blood loss and all of that. Although you were probably never in any danger, being so…strong and...well built..." Willow's voice trailed off as her cheeks flamed bright red.

"I've had worse," Tara pulled herself up a little further, defiantly ignoring the pain and determined to stop Willow babbling before she embarrassed herself. "It's nothing really. Whoever patched me up did a real good job."

"Oh, we've got a doctor…well, he's not ours as such, but he does stuff for all of us. Faith saved his life once. He was being beaten up by a couple of low-lifes for the fifty bucks he had in his wallet. So now he's pretty much on call whenever we need him." The tray was starting to get heavy and a yet as Willow shifted her weight slightly she seemed to have forgotten while she was carrying it in the first place.

Tara however, had most certainly not. Her stomach was threatening to tear its way through her skin and find food on its own as Tara seemed to be doing nothing to ease the hunger pangs. The situation was made all the worse by the fact that she could smell something rich and meaty wafting from a large bowl in the centre of the tray.

"Ah, Willow," Tara asked cautiously, as though she were about to ask a huge favour.

Willow raised her eyebrows in anticipation, "Yeah?"

"Is it presumptuous of me to assume that's my dinner?" Tara nodded towards the tray.

Willow's eyebrows flew upwards in shock and she surged forward in her haste to deliver the tray. The contents of her tray mimicked her movements in almost sliding right of the tray and onto the floor. She barely managed to correct herself and for a second engaged in a comical balancing act which drew a suppressed snicker from Tara. Once the tray was under control Willow looked up with a sheepish expression on her face. Even so, she had not missed Tara's brief display of mirth and it heartened her somewhat…even if it had come at her own expense.

Willow safely deposited the tray on Tara's lap, her hairs prickling at their momentary close proximity. She drew away quickly, but not so quick as to be noticeable and took up a position standing next to the bed.

Tara barely stopped to take in what was on the tray before pouncing on the food. She did note that the large bowl contained a thick, hearty beef soup complete with large chunks of meat and vegetables. Next to the soup was a steaming loaf of bread, butter melting at its centre. There was a cup of black coffee, and a little oddly, a glass of milk. A separate plate held a large wedge of some form of cake – probably chocolate. She tore off a large hunk of bread and sopped up as much soup as it could hold before cramming the oversized chunk into her mouth. Her jaws worked fiercely to stop herself choking on the bread and soup and she felt a dribble of gravy make its way down her chin. However, she did not pause until two more hunks of bread and several spoonfuls of soup had gone the way of the first. She followed it up with a gulp of the scalding coffee and perfunctorily dashed her fist across her chin to wipe away the mess.

Willow watched with a look that was somewhere between amusement and disgust. Tara looked up with no apology on her face.

"Fanks," her mouth was partially full as she had popped another piece of bread into her mouth, she swallowed quickly and spoke a little clearer. "Did you make all this?"

"I opened the respective cans and boxes, and pressed the 'start' button on the microwave, " Willow admitted honestly. "So if you could call that 'making', then yeah, I did. You were obviously hungry at any rate."

Tara was scooping up soup as she replied. "Yeah, and this is about the best food I've eaten in the past eight years. The milk though?"

"Um, options?" Willow replied sheepishly.

"You want it?" Tara nodded at the milk. "Take a seat."

Willow took up a perch on the edge of the bed and retrieved Tara's unwanted milk from the tray, she took a long swallow before letting it rest on her lap with the support of one hand. They sat in silence for a while, silent except for Tara chewing with her mouth open and the scrape of her spoon against the bottom of the bowl. Willow tapped her heel on the ground and stared out the window, unsure of the best way to resume their conversation of the previous evening. Tara however, did not feel the need to talk. She was staring regretfully at her empty soup bowl. Her regret did not last long however, she fell upon the cake with great gusto. Half of it was gone before she realised that she was poor company indeed. She pushed the tray toward Willow a little, nudging her with the corner.

"Want some?" Tara secretly hoped that Willow did not.

Willow's attention was drawn away from the window and back to Tara, she shook her head politely. She continued sipping her milk, the question she was dying to ask Tara trapped on her lips.

The last of the chocolate cake was finished in mere seconds; Willow picked up the tray and set in on the nightstand. She left Tara with just the coffee in her hands. The blonde burped slightly and lifted her hand to cover her mouth belatedly.

"Sorry," she murmured embarrassed.

"No problem, I'm sorry I didn't feed you earlier…I'm not a very good host I'm afraid. Too busy talking your head off and making an idiot of myself," Willow dropped her gaze slightly.

Tara opened her mouth to rebut Willow's words when her mind flashed back to the girl leaning all over her in the car, mere moments after their reunion. She reflected that the behaviour had been somewhat inappropriate, especially at the embarrassment it had caused…but she wouldn't go as far as to say it was idiotic. Nor could she doubt the sincerity of Willow's feelings for her.

**I was almost justifying her behaviour…goddamn, next thing I know I'll be flattered by her attentions…aren't I already? I look at her and she looks right back at me, I know she's thinking back to that conversation. I can see the yearning to ask me written plain as day on her face. I can honestly say that I would rather face another couple of those thugs in a back alley than sit for one more minute alone with this kid.**

The silence was finally broken as both spoke at the same moment.

"Tara, I…"

"Listen, Willow…"

Both shut their mouths immediately and waited for the other to speak. Tara realised that Willow had no intention of speaking first and she sighed before opening her mouth once again.

"Listen Willow, I'm sorry I haven't exactly been...the most talkative person since I got out of prison-" Tara began slowly.

Willow interrupted briefly, "Understate things much?"

Tara's eyebrows rose slightly and Willow couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed at the interruption, she continued talking however. "At any rate, I'm sorry. It's a difficult transition to go from…i-in t-there to out here."

Willow cocked her head to one side ever so slightly as she listened to Tara, she had never noticed Tara's stutter before although as she remembered hearing it the previous evening before the blonde had passed out. She had been so startled by what Tara had said that she had not noticed the manner in which it had been said, and she now recalled the exact word over which Tara stumbled…love. She studied Tara's face, seeing her vulnerability for the first time.

Tara saw the expression on Willow's face and scowled angrily. "Don't look at me like that!"

Willow fixed an innocent expression on her face. "Like what?'

"Like…" Tara stopped. Willow's previous expression was nowhere to be seen in her now adorable gaze and her scowl deepened as a result of frustration. "Like whatever the look you had on your face before, two seconds ago, before you went all…"

**Cute…adorable…it's fucking impossible to stay frustrated at someone like her.**

"Just don't look at me okay!" Tara snapped.

Willow's eyebrows rose sharply. Mostly she asked herself whether Tara was intending that she take her literally. Her question was answered a few moments later when Tara looked her straight in the eye. She was biting her lip as though she were in deep thought. Willow found herself stealing small glances up at Tara, as though she were expecting another outburst.

"I-I…" Tara swallowed and began a new. "I had something I meant to say to you last night before I fainted."

"Yeah, I did wonder about that a little," Willow inwardly groaned at her understatement.

Willow studied Tara closely, saw the tightness around her mouth and her clenched fists. Whatever she had to say, she was struggling with some aspect, or perhaps all of it. Her bottom lip dropped slightly when she realised that Tara was poised for movement, as though she desperately wished she could disappear out the door. Instead she was restrained by her wound, unable even to face the opposition direction without irritating it.

"Look Willow, I'm really tired…" Tara began.

As soon as Willow realised that Tara was about to brush her off, her mouth dropped fully and she rose on two very firmly planted feet to stare down at Tara. She interrupted her without mercy.

"Oh no you don't…don't you dare do that again right when you were about to speak your mind! Tell me honestly what you want to say to me…and don't make up another excuse because I'll see right through it," Willow almost felt like shaking her finger at the recalcitrant ex-cop lying in the bed before her.

She managed to stop herself before she sank to using such an inane gesture, especially given the tense situation. Willow had finally come to the point to which she had been working and was not about to screw it up because she was pissed off.

Tara was every bit the petulant child as she stared at Willow from the corner of her eye to avoid moving her body for the second time in less than a minute. Willow confronted her with a steadfast gaze.

**It's always been too late for me…it's been that way since I put slugs into Glory's devil spawn eight years ago but I always felt safe in the knowledge that I could still save Willow. I saved her all those years ago and I could save her this time too…until now. I can't save her anymore, I can't save her because I'm going to drag her down with me, get her killed. All because I can't keep my fucking dumbarse self under control. She's looking at me expectantly. She knows it even if she doesn't understand what it will do to her. She's getting impatient, foot starting to tap on the ground. Fuck! I need more time to think, work out a plan so we can all be happy and get out of this alive…since when did I start caring about saving myself?**

When Tara finally spoke, she spoke the words simply, "I feel something for you, Willow."

While Willow had not been expecting a declaration of undying love from Tara, she had to admit that she was expecting a statement that carried a little more conviction than the one she had just heard. As it was, she was rather confused.

"I feel something for you?" Willow repeated, feeling more than a little stupid. "Tara, what the hell is that supposed to mean? You feel something for me as in the affection that you would feel for a little sister…or you feel hot all over like you wanna fuck…"

"Willow!" As she snapped at the capricious redhead, Tara rolled over to face her in a movement that caused a considerable amount of pain. "Stop deliberately provoking me!" Willow raised her hands in placation and let Tara continue, albeit in a milder voice, "I'm not lying, I am really tired…and nor can I answer your questions…I just need a little-"

"Time," Willow finished quietly.

The redhead took a few steps closer to the bed and reached out to take Tara's hand in her own. Tara felt the small, warm fingers enclose her own in one gentle squeeze before she released them all too soon.

"Yeah, time," Tara heard herself say.

Willow backed away from the bed, a small but radiant smile of victory spreading across her face. She was still smiling when she turned and headed out the door. Her victory wasn't over Tara. She knew full well she hadn't beaten Tara at anything, but she had beaten back the demons…at least a little.

* * *

**The kid must have taken me seriously because it's been a week and I haven't heard a peep out of her, at least nothing to do with my feelings. Fuck, what a stupid thing to say. I've been kicking myself all week about it. I've never been much of a wordsmith but that little bit of verbiage really takes the prize in the sappy crap sweepstakes. You're losing it, Maclay, really losing it.**

**Still, she's not much of a kid, not really. Especially not after I've just seen her show for the second time. I search her out across the floor of Kitty's and her eyes meet mine. She's standing next to Faith, a long coat thrown over her stage costume. The coat parts slightly as she lifts her arms to wave and I see creamy skin, creamy and bright even in the gloom of Kitty's. I don't wave back of course; it's not my style. I nod…that's what tough guys are supposed to do.**

**However, there's a slight curl to my lips as I turn back to face my drink sitting on the bar in front of me. I think I'm a goddamn fool.**

Tara let the cacophony of Kitty's constant humming flow over her as she savoured the cool beer. She downed it in one long, slow drag and set the empty back down on the bar with a thud of satisfaction. Somewhere over her shoulder was Willow and Tara knew she was waiting for her.

Across the bar, Willow watched Tara down her beer and looked nervously to her own drink. Her show had finished at least ten minutes ago and she'd been standing at Faith's side for most of that time, barely sipping her drink as she waited for Tara to cross the room and join them. However, just as it looked as though Tara was sliding the stool back to begin the rise to her feet a tall figure shrouded beneath an expensive and beautiful coat moved to block her path. Willow found herself watching the newcomer intently. The figure hugging coat outlined trim curves and coal black curls peeked from the raised hood. She noted that Tara did not look up at her although she would definitely know there was someone standing so close. Willow's breath caught in her throat as the woman slowly peeled back the fur-lined hood of her coat. The movement appeared to be seductively calculated and turned more than one head in the bar. In fact, Willow noted, it turned almost every head besides Tara's. She shrugged the coat off her shoulders and a man, who Willow had not previously noticed, stepped forward to take the coat and fold it over his arm. Willow studied the woman's face once more, knowing she had seen her somewhere but ultimately coming up blank.

The woman then leaned down to speak softly in Tara's ear, finally rousing Tara from her intent concentration on the beer glass in front of her. She continued to watch as Tara glanced up at the women and saw the resulting clouded look that passed over Tara's face. The look spoke volumes, which was saying a lot considering that Tara was the queen of brevity. When the woman leaned forward and kissed Tara full and sensually on the lips, Willow felt like dashing her glass of lemonade to the floor.

"Who the fuck is that?" she demanded, turning to Faith with a stormy expression on her face.

Faith too had been staring at the woman. When Willow addressed her, she turned and regarded her with a wry but sympathetic smile that said she knew something.

"You spend too much time with your nose in a book kiddo, we need to get you out more often…say to a movie?" Faith suggested, knowing full well Willow loved her books. "Have you never heard of Evie Abernathy?"

Willow snorted. "Isn't she some sort of actress?"

"Yup," Faith replied with a nod.

"What's she got to do with anything-" Willow stopped short and she turned back to look at the woman once more, comprehension dawned. "That's Evie Abernathy? What the hell is a movie star doing kissing Tara?"

Willow narrowed her eyes suspiciously; Evie Abernathy looked as though she knew Tara a little too well.

Faith's reply came out reluctantly. "Because, Willow...Evie Abernathy is Tara's ex."

Despite the reluctance of Faith's speech, the words shot straight towards Willow and hit her square between the eyes. Such was their impact that she almost fell backwards.

"Tara has an ex," Willow whispered it out loud for the benefit of her own ears. "Tara's ex is a movie star?"

"It was in all the papers about ten years ago. I guess you were a little too young to be reading the scandal rags," Faith let out an appreciative whistle. "Damn, they both look as hot together now as they did in all the photos back then."

"They're not together now," Willow whispered between gritted teeth, slamming the palm of her hand down on the table.

"Will, I didn't mean together as in 'together together', I just meant it as in seeing them standing side by side like that…Will?" Faith turned around in time to see Willow's departing back passing through the back door towards the changing rooms. "Shit...someone's jealous."

* * *

**I smell her before I even lay eyes on her. A hot, cloying scent that fogs my brain, gives me a headache and drives me w****ild all at the same time. She whispers in my ear, a tropical summer breeze that does not cool but is hot and suffocating.**

"Got time for an old flame?"

**Sure enough, I turn around and she's standing right in front of me, looking exactly the same as she did ten years and nine months ago. This is a new development that I really don't need…Evie Abernathy. Movie star, drama queen, egomaniac…but that means very little in the face of the fact that she is just plain fucking gorgeous, and a dyke to boot.**

**Before I even know what's happening, she moves forward and plants a kiss on my parched lips. For someone who hasn't been kissed in over eight years, it's the stuff of dreams. Hot, wet and more than enough to create a fierce ache between my legs. I want more, but I know the kiss isn't an invitation. Besides, it's not Evie that I want...**

Evie Abernathy pulled back, licking her full lips. She straightened herself to her full height to look down on Tara. "Well, well, well…I thought I read you were in jail serving a life sentence for killing a couple of people and kicking the shit out of Junior Talbot?"

**Her voice has changed with the passing of time. It's lost that girlish quality which limited her to the roles of ingénue or high school student. I often heard her joke that she'd spent several lifetimes at high school. It's mellowed now, mellowed into something sophisticated and rich. It matches her scent perfectly. Last I heard she'd been nominated for an Oscar. How appropriate, the two of us always had been poles apart.**

"I was," Tara tried to keep her voice level and nonchalant. "But I got bored of it."

"Same old Tara. So you just walked out of a maximum security prison?" Evie teased.

The star turned to the bartender and ordered a scotch and a double of Jack as Tara was still trying to sort out what was happening, the fact that Evie was really there in front of her had thrown her slightly and she quickly moved to recover by throwing her defences up once more.

"Yes, they were only too happy to let someone like me get out of their sight," Tara replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Evie just smiled and accepted the two glasses from the bartender, one of which she placed before Tara as she slid elegantly onto the dirty stool that stood empty beside her. She crossed her legs and somehow managed to sit on the stool as though it were a throne.

"I'm not here to bait you, Tara. I heard you escaped and I knew where I'd find you," Her tone was somewhat apologetic. "Let's just say a few of the Ladies are good friends of mine."

Tara saw a smirk flicker across Evie's face. She hadn't changed one bit, still drawn to bad girls…as bad as they came by the sounds of it. Tara lifted the Jack to her lips and took a hearty swallow.

"What did you come here for then?" Tara asked bluntly.

"Nice to see that prison has made your manners even worse…I know you've been fucking awful, don't you want to know how I've been?"

**I've been away for too long and I can't tell whether she's serious or just trying to piss me off. I know exactly how she's been…making movies, making millions of dollars and fucking scores of women, straight, lesbian and everything in between…what else is there to ask?**

"How have you been, Evie?" Tara humoured her, the question emerging though gritted teeth.

"Swell! The movie business has been good to me, I don't know if you've seen any of my latest flicks but I've established myself as an action heroine. You know, my last role was playing a detective, I drew on you for inspiration of course, fucking best performance of my life. And not to mention the Oscar of course. I've just purchased a house up in Sacred Oaks as well as the penthouses in New York and LA and the estate back home in England."

Tara didn't bat an eyelid, modesty had never been one of Evie's strong points. "Why would you want to move back to Sacred Oaks, why the hell would you want to live anywhere near this shithole of a city for that matter?"

"It has its good points…and I've recently discovered that despite all that I have, I miss the one thing I let get away. Tara, I realise now that I was a childish fool and it' all so empty and positively boring without you in my life," she finished with a grand flourish in her voice.

"Are you serious?" Tara shot back, her voice laden with scepticism.

Evie snorted, Tara had missed the sarcasm in her voice. "Honestly, Tara, being involved with you was one of the greatest trials in my life. You were...fucking fantastic in bed and-" Evie reached out and ran a hand down the side of Tara's face. "-well, just look at you sitting there like a coiled spring. I know that, if you wanted to, you could kill me before my boy here had a chance to react."

"That idea is starting to look tempting," Tara muttered, wondering where the hell Evie was going with her musings. Talking about fucking was again reminding her that she badly needed to get well and truly laid.

"But for all that, even the sex, do you really think I'd miss the fact that you made me miss countless parties and benefits, or else I had to attend on my own, all because you threw a tantrum of some sort-"

"I never threw tantrums! That was your bag!" Tara protested indignantly.

Evie continued, "-and not to mention the fact that you refused to move out of that dive you lived in and in with me. God knows why you preferred squalor to luxury."

"I valued my independence," Tara replied stubbornly, thinking back to her old one-room apartment with some degree of nostalgia.

"Yes, I know, you valued independence over hot-running water," Evie replied dryly, she had never possessed any qualms about Tara compromising her independence.

Tara growled, she had qualms a plenty and most of them involved Evie Abernathy dictating her life. "Enough with the pleasantries, you're pissing me off."

"Fine then, small talk has never been one of your strong points anyway," Evie took a long swallow of scotch. "I came to offer help, namely, to get you to leave town. Just say the word and you're gone anywhere you want...the Caribbean, Australia."

Although the situation hardly warranted it, Tara found herself laughing. Evie was staring at her as though she'd gone mad and she very probably had.

"What's so funny?" Evie asked cautiously.

**I'm thinking the exact same thing myself but the truth be told, I feel more like crying than laughing…although I would be dead before I ever admitted it. I sit staring at my Jack wondering just how much to tell Evie, how much of the pathetic story should I reveal and I make my decision quickly.**

"Last week that was my plan…you were the ticket to my getting the hell out of here. It's just that now that the offer's on the table, I have to turn it down." Once it was out, Tara realised it had not been that hard to say. She was quick to respond to the perplexed expression on Evie's face, "I have to stay, I owe these women my life, I can't let them fight on their own….and there's this girl, I made it my business to save her life once, I can't abandon her now."

Evie knew exactly who Tara meant but she clarified anyway. "The little girl you saved from Talbot?"

"She's not so little anymore," Tara replied in a heavy voice.

Evie's next question was automatic. "You're in love with her?"

Tara drained the last of her Jack and ground the remaining ice cube with her teeth. She eventually shook her head awkwardly in reply.

**I'm not a liar…**

Evie just smiled as though she could read Tara's thoughts. There was always something more to it with Tara. Things were never that simple. However, she could not resist a jibe at her ex. "You keep telling yourself that, darling, it might make you feel better," she stood up as gracefully as she had sat down and gave Tara a cheeky little wave. "I'll be off now. Listen, I'll give you some time to think and maybe get all naked and sweaty with your little girlfriend a couple of times so you can decide if she really is worth the price of going up against the Talbots."

Tara stood in one powerful movement and jabbed her finger angrily in Evie's direction. "Too far, Evie, too far!"

Almost automatically, Evie's bodyguard was at her side with the pretence of helping the star back into her coat. However, he kept his steely gaze on Tara, who he obviously regarded as a bit of a loose cannon. Tara seethed inwardly for a few moments, her finger shaking in Evie's direction before she realised how ridiculous she must have looked and lowered it. The object of her frustration flashed her a dazzling and very knowing smile. Tara had lost the round, completely.

Tara sighed, for all Evie's faults, she had a heart of gold and coupled with the small measure of nostalgia for what they had once shared, this meant that Tara would hate to see something happen to the star. Although it infuriated her to have to admit it.

"Glory knows we were close, have those bodyguards keep an extra good eye out, even up in Sacred Oaks," Tara kept her expression serious.

Evie laughed it off. "Tara, I'm a fucking movie star, no one's gonna mess with me, especially not that bitch Talbot…frumpy, ugly tart that she is."

"She's a powerful woman, Evie," Tara continued to urge Evie despite the flippant brush off she received, "You may be famous but she thinks she's a goddess."

"Well, it's high time someone took her down from her pedestal," Evie replied as though it would be a relatively easy task. "Looks as though that job's fallen to you…so I would say 'see you later' but I don't know how much longer you'll be around."

Tara swallowed, her throat was already dry and she needed another drink. "See you in hell would be more appropriate."

Evie smiled and turned to leave Kitty's, as she did she spoke over her shoulder, "You're too fucking virtuous for hell, Tara Maclay."


	7. The Little Green Dress

**Chapter Seven  
****The Little Green Dress**

**I watch that goddamn broad, Evie Abernathy, leave Kitty's. Her arse moves seductively even beneath her coat and I know she's intending it to be a reminder of what I missed out on, what I could have had if I wasn't such a head case. Goddamn woman can taunt me all she wants, I know she doesn't really want me anymore. Even though my current status is just about as bad arse as you can get, I'm even more of a head case. Not to mention the fact that I definitely don't want her. I smile and my gaze drifts back across the room to where I had last seen Willow talking to Faith. I frown, the kid is nowhere in sight and there's just Faith staring at me over the rim of her glass. Her gaze isn't as hostile as it has been in the past…a fact which doesn't exactly have me feeling warm and fuzzy.**

Not wanting to appear too desperate to learn Willow's whereabouts, Tara waited what she thought was an appropriate five minutes before crossing the room to join Faith. It was more like thirty seconds. She didn't take a seat but instead remained standing to indicate that she was serious about wanting to know Willow's whereabouts to seek her out.

"Nice chat with Ms Abernathy?" Faith asked placing her empty glass on the table in front of her and stroking its length as though she were stroking flesh.

"Words between old friends," Tara replied tersely, not about to be drawn into the brunette's little game.

Faith raised her fist to her mouth and coughed lightly. "Everyone knows Tara Maclay and Evie Abernathy were much more than friends…I remember, I don't know if you do, the rather naughty shot published in all the papers of the two of you splayed against the window of Evie's apartment. You should've really shut the curtains you know."

Tara fought the urge to growl in return but she clenched both fists instead. Of course she remembered that photo - taken by an unscrupulous tabloid photographer with a high-resolution lens. It had been published at a time when their relationship was still a relative secret and had predictably led to subsequent media frenzy. The media could apparently not get enough of stories concerning the famous lesbian actress and her lover, the dark, unknown cop. While the constant attention had done wonders for Evie's career, it had almost ruined Tara's.

Faith just smiled at Tara's discomfort and continued, "Well…I should say** almost** everyone knows, a certain redhead was too young at the time...she knows now though."

**I groan inwardly, there was no telling what Willow had deduced from what she had seen, let alone what Faith might have said to her. I struggle to keep myself from leaping across the table and smashing that smug smile from Faith's face…not exactly the best move to make on the boss of a gang whose joint I'm standing in.**

Tara had to content herself with simply voicing her anger, "What the hell did you say to her, Faith?"

Faith merely snorted indignantly. "What Willow chooses to draw from the sight of your incredibly glamorous ex-lover ramming her tongue down your throat is completely up to her."

Tara's eyes darted around the bar but it was exceptionally crowded due to the fact that the most popular dancer was on the bill for the night. She couldn't spot the redhead anywhere in the throng and her eyes went back to Faith.

"Do you see where she went?" Tara asked urgently.

"Why?" Faith replied brusquely, searching Tara's face for a hint of her intentions. "Why do you care where she is?"

"Because…" Tara swallowed awkwardly, she was hardly about to tell Faith things she would not even admit to herself. "I don't want Willow to get the wrong impression."

"Fine," Faith replied, although she did not seem entirely impressed with the brevity of Tara's answer. "She went out the back door, she'll either be in the dressing rooms or taking in some air out in the back alley."

Tara frowned. "In the back alley? Alone?"

Before Faith could say anything further, Tara made a beeline for the back door. She made it to the dressing room but none of the other dancers had seen Willow enter so she continued out into the back alley.

She sniffed at the gloom that met her as she made her way out into the space behind Kitty's. Although wide, the walls on either side rose high into the air, effectively blocking out any light from the moon that shone high above. There were several people gathered around the entrance - bar staff and dancers on their cigarette breaks and a few other loiterers whom Tara eyes sharply. Sure enough, one of them was a small redheaded. Tara narrowed her eyes and saw that it was Willow, her coat drawn up around her face. Tara started after her, although she had not gone more than a few meters after Willow when a small hand darted from the shadows and latched onto her elbow with a vice-like grip. Tara spun to find herself face-to-face with the steely gaze of Buffy, the silent, samurai sword wielding woman who managed to frighten even Tara. Tara immediately mistook the cold stare on Buffy's face for one of displeasure.

"I just want to talk to her," Tara said insistently.

Buffy shook her head just as insistently in reply. Although Tara had taken this as sign that Buffy didn't want her anywhere near Willow, the petite blonde then inclined her head towards a moving shadow that hugged the alley walls just behind Willow.

Tara narrowed her eyes to pick out more details in the gloom and it was not until the figure peeled itself away from the wall that she could make out who it was. She saw the swirl of a long, black leather coat falling down to their ankles. It rose to a high collar turned up around the stranger's face. Although Tara saw a hint of pale, almost white skin, too white to be hidden in shadow and peroxided hair atop their head. As they walked, Tara came to the conclusion it was a man. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that he was definitely following Willow, in fact he was closing in on the little redhead. Tara turned back to Buffy and saw her hand go to one of her katana at her belt. Risking her hand being sliced off cleanly at the wrist, Tara reached out and laid her hand on Buffy's forearm. The blonde tuned to regard Tara with a curious expression which Tara couldn't label as threatening or neutral.

"I'll take care of it," Tara said quietly, hoping that Buffy would not feel her place had been usurped.

Although Buffy was obviously the protector of the group due to her rather unique skills, Tara had the sudden and insistent urge to step in where Willow was concerned. As she stepped out in the alley and Buffy did not make any move to prevent her, she felt as though Willow's safety concerned her personally. Tara realised as her eyes narrowed on the strangers back that she wanted it to be her role permanently. The thought of anyone else looking out for Willow, no matter how good a job they might do, was difficult to accept.

**I study the guy following Willow, it always pays to you're your target as much as possible even though there's only so much that can be gleaned by observation alone. He's powerful, no doubt about that in his stride and carriage. I bet he's as lean and hard as a rock under that leather coat. Coat's expensive as well, although that doesn't help me much, could be that he stole it…or just as easily, he could be a dealer. I move in until I'm just behind him and its right now that I feel naked despite the clothes I'm wearing. I don't have a single weapon on me, not the comforting presence of a pistol snug against the small of my back…or even a nail file in my pocket for god sake! Still, I have my mits…small as though they may be, they're still capable of doing some damage. I'm so close behind him now that I could reach out and clip him over one ear. If he's noticed I'm here, he's not showing any sign. **

"Can I help you?" the tone of Tara's voice, although quiet, meant serious business.

The man turned to regard the interruption Tara presented. His movement, although brief, was fluid and stealthy, enough to indicate to Tara that he would be difficult to handle if events did take a turn for the worst. Tara was determined not to resort to using her mits, for any reason…although given that Willow's safety was on the line, she was not sure just how concrete a resolution this would prove to be.

Tara met his steely cold, almost mocking gaze with a calm, expressionless one of her own. She studied his face intently, it was almost starved of flesh, all hard planes and angles that made it appear as though he had been chiselled from a slab of pale rock. His lips, thin and cruel, curved up into a sardonic little smirk. She glanced over her shoulder, a few meters ahead Willow had obviously heard Tara speak and had stopped to face the pair standing behind her. Her confusion at the scene unfolding mixed with an obvious twinge of heartache when her gaze fell upon Tara.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was just gong to offer the little lady a cigarette," he spoke in a dry voice with an unmistakeably English accent.

Tara felt her stomach churn into a painful knot at the suggestion that it was none of her business. She realised that she was determined to make anything to do with Willow, her business...especially when it involved a creepy Englishman stalking her in a darkened alley.

"It is my business…and she doesn't smoke," Tara didn't buy it for one second, it was all too obvious he was looking for trouble, of exactly which kind Tara did not care enough to find out. "So I'd move along if I were you."

He raised his eyebrows as though Tara's rather low-level threat amused him. Tara couldn't care less whether he was enjoying this or not, she was fully aware that Buffy was stalking them from the rooftop high above. At any sign of trouble, the deadly little woman could pounce with her katana and the intruder would be sushi within a matter of seconds.

"You are a feisty lady," he drawled in reply. "If I were you I'd mind your manners in the future. A little politeness can go a long way in our game."

Tara tried her best not to look confused as she replied in a confident voice, "I don't know what the hell kind of game you're playing, but I have no intentions to play along."

He chuckled and glanced slightly upwards in Buffy's direction, as though he were fully aware that she was there. When he met Tara's gaze once more, his eyes spoke of even further knowledge, knowledge that was dangerous. Tara struggled to keep her expression level even as a myriad of thoughts ran through her mind.

**I keep my eyes locked with this nancy bastard despite the fact that it's not as easy as it sounds. I look into those flint-like orbs and see nothing except an uncompromising evil that I know sure as hell ain't normal. While I need to know who he is and what he wants…for the moment I don't care, I just want him as far away from Willow as possible.**

"Tara?"

Tara could tell that Willow was trying to keep the fear from her voice, but it was there in spades. Her voice trembled slightly. Tara was keenly aware of the fact that the stranger stood between her and Willow. He could move at Willow with malicious and all she would be able to do was react a split second later…a split second too late.

"It's alright, the gentleman was just leaving," Tara said loud enough for all of them to hear clearly, even Buffy atop the roofline.

"I was under the impression that the Ladies could be called upon to bestow their considerable attentions on gentleman with money…it could be that I've got some," his lips curled up into a smirk.

"Well it could also be that neither of us is interested in your proposition," Tara shot back coldly.

It was clear that he was not about to be put off by one refusal, he spun slowly on his heels so that his back was to Tara. He faced Willow down with the same cool gaze he had given Tara, only the young redhead could not respond with Tara's calm, collected gaze. Her mouth dropped slightly in fear and when he took a step towards her an audible whimper escaped her lips.

"I was asking the little lady here," he let out a chuckle at the response he provoked. "She looks like she could use a real man."

A heartbeat later Tara moved. She covered the ground between her and the intruder in a few powerful strides and then with a heavy plant of her booted foot, stepped in front of him to block his path to Willow. At the edge of her vision she saw Buffy drop down to a fire escape just above his head.

Tara stood facing him. The blood pounded against her skull, her anger boiling and furious as it strained to be released. Her anger was written all over her face and the intruder knew it. His only response at first was to grin as though he were egging her on. When she failed to respond to the immediate taunt, he continued with his choice of words.

"You won't give me what I want…what's to stop me from just taking it then?" his smile had morphed into a sneer. "You? Little girl playing cop…wait a minute…or ex-cop, I recognise your picture from somewhere…"

He was lying and Tara knew it. There was no expression of sudden recognition on his face. Apparently he was not as good an actor as he thought he was. He already knew exactly who she was before his forced exclamation and this troubled her more than his rather hollow, lecherous threats towards Willow. It was this realisation, that and the fact that Buffy was poised about to carve his head like a melon, which kept Tara's anger in check

"Murderer," he whispered as though it was the dirtiest word he could utter.

Tara met his cruel smirk impassive and unimpressed. She knew exactly what had happened on that fateful night eight years ago and there was nothing about it that troubled her conscience or kept her awake at night. Each of those men had deserved to die, she only regretted she hadn't managed to dispatch Tommy Talbot along with them. What kept her awake at night were the consequences.

If he were thrown by her lack of response and his failure to provoke her into anything other than a passive rage, it did not show on his features.

"Well then, I'd see to your little girlfriend…she obviously needs to get it from somewhere and I suppose it's going to be you," he looked over her shoulder in Willow's direction and smiled broadly. "Don't cry now little one...no one is going to get hurt…today."

Tara turned on her heels so she was standing side on to both Willow and the intruder, she turned her head slightly to confirm that the redhead was okay. Tara was relieved to see that although she was visibly shaken, she did not appear to be on the verge of tears at all. She smiled in reassurance before turning back to face their foe…only her was gone, vanished into the darkness of the alley. Tara frowned and peered upwards to see Buffy had disappeared too, no doubt she had followed the stranger to either dispatch him quietly, or ensure that he left Old Town.

"Fine, run away with you tail between your legs then," Tara growled into the night, but it was more for her own benefit than his.

Assuming a confident posture with both hands relaxed at her side, Tara turned back to Willow whose small face was marred by a deep frown.

"Okay, I totally missed what all that was about," Willow could not help but have noticed the rather eerie nature of his departure. "Was he trying to sell me drugs or something because I don't…"

"I think he was something much more than a drug dealer, Willow," Tara interrupted in a dark voice, wishing the situation were that simple.

Tara had loved dealing to the dealers during her employment as a cop. There was something inherently satisfying in cleaning at least some of the scum that clung beneath the rim of the toilet that was Basin City. It would have been simple, she could have delivered him to the doorstep of the nearest precinct…or confined him to the bowels of the nearest dumpster. However, from the look in the man's eyes and the way he moved, Tara suspected that she had better be on her guard least she be the one composting in a dumpster. Tara was still buried deep in reflection when she finally noticed a small hand tugging on her sleeve.

"Tara, are you alright?" Willow asked quietly. "You're worried about that white haired guy aren't you?"

"What?" Tara forced herself to turn her attention back to Willow. "Um, yeah, of course I'm alright…and no, he was just a low-life scumbag."

Willow frowned, not about to be put off so easily, "But you said before…"

**I growl inwardly, yeah, I know what I just said before but you shouldn't have to worry your pretty little head about that guy…that's my job…and I'm fucking worried…I quickly change the subject, replacing it with something else that I would rather not talk about…Evie.**

"There's nothing going on between Evie Abernathy and I," Tara blurted out, blunt and straight to the point out of necessity.

If Tara had been seeking to draw Willow's mind away from her stalker, she succeeded in spectacular fashion. The look that settled on to Willow's face indicated that she had suddenly remembered her reason for sulking alone in the alley. Her expression flickered from anger to one of forced resignation which Tara suspected was purely for show.

"I don't care…I mean…" Willow huffed loudly and ended up repeating herself. "I don't care."

"Really?" Tara asked in a deliberately surprised voice. "So you'd be fine if Evie and I got back together?"

Willow's face coloured. "Like hell I would! You can't get back together with that skanky woman stealing whore!"

With Willow's little outburst, Tara was proved right. There was no way in hell Willow would resign herself to anything so quickly, even if she were fighting over the same woman with a movie star.

"Who's she stealing me from, Willow?" Tara asked quietly, softly. "I'm not with anyone."

Tara kept a calm gaze on Willow, the younger woman was anything but calm. Tara could have sworn she was one movement away from stamping her foot on the ground like a small child who was not getting her way.

"From me!" Willow spluttered. "From me, you great big dummy! I've been sending out every signal I know, pretty much screaming that I want you and now you go and let that movie bimbo in straight away…just like that?"

"Willow…" Tara tried to interrupt in a quiet voice.

If Willow had not been so seriously angry, Tara would have laughed at the comedy of the situation and Willow's irrational fear that all her hard work in 'softening' up the ex-cop had just been thrown out the window. As it stood however, Tara was acutely aware that she had to put Willow out of her misery.

"What?" Willow growled.

"I wouldn't get re-involved with Evie if she were the last dyke on the face of the planet."

It took a few moments to register but eventually Willow ducked her head as she realised how juvenile she must have sounded to Tara. Allowing herself time to compose herself, she lifted her gaze once more and studied the blonde's face. She was surprised to find traces of amusement there, especially given the fact that she had never seen Tara smile. An embarrassed grin spread across her own face.

"That was ridiculous of me, I have no right to even think like that," Willow replied honestly.

Tara took in a lungful of air and replied quickly before she lost her nerve, "Maybe you do."

Willow frowned, "Tara?"

Any further conversation was thwarted when, with barely a sound, Buffy dropped down into the alleyway from where she had been stalking along the rooftops above. Her katana was still at her belt, and quite bloodless as far as Tara could tell. The assassin nodded in the direction of the City to indicate that he had left Old Town. Tara did not bother pressing her for more information as she suspected that she would get none.

Buffy then reached out and propelled Willow in the direction of Kitty's with a gentle nudge to her shoulder as though reminded her she had better get back inside.

"Oh shit!" Willow hissed, drawing Tara's attention back to her. "I've still got another show to do!"

"Okay, Buffy, show her back inside," Tara ordered swiftly, matter-of-factly. "I'm going to take another look around out here just to be on the safe side."

Willow's face showed a momentary flicker of disappointment as though she thought Tara may miss her show.

"I'll be inside in a few minutes," Tara added, trying to sound as though it wasn't entirely for Willow's benefit.

Buffy and Willow left her alone in the alley. By now the smokers who had crowded around the back door of Kitty's had too moved inside to secure their seats for Willow's next show. It was something Tara would have much rather been doing instead of prowling and poking around in the cold darkness outside…no doubt she would be ten times warmer inside for a very good reason.

She thought back to Willow's earlier show and the rather discreet glances that were all she had allowed herself to see of Willow's gyrating form. While it had almost killed her not to look…she knew it definitely would have killed her to look. So as she patrolled the alleyway, the thought crossed her mind that she ought not go back in at all. Eventually however, after spending one cold minute too many outside, she found herself drawn back to the door that would take her into Kitty's. From the appreciate hum and whistles that emitted from within, she guessed that Willow had started up with her next routine.

Tara slipped quietly in the door and took up a position leaning against the wall with her arms stubbornly folded across her chest. There were few people around her as the vantage point offered a very poor view of the stage. All she managed to see were glimpses of pale flesh and flashes of trailing red hair

**I think I'm content standing at the back of the bar, and probably safe too given that I can see very little of the action up on the stage. However, I can sense it all around me. The air is charged with excitement and a sensual essence so foreign to me, so buried in the depths of my past that it is almost beyond recognition. The fact that it emanates from that kid, that woman, dancing on the stage is still difficult to accept. Although I can't quite decide whether this is because of the effect her dancing has on me, or the fact that she's dancing up there at all. I chide myself inwardly, I have to accept that the dancing is Willow's choice. **

**In the brief glimpses I manage to catch through the crowd, I see someone who can move as though born to it. Like the moth to the flame, I am drawn through the crowd. As I thread my way through, I have eyes only for her to the point where I am barely aware of my body brushing past others. I can see all of her now, up there on that stage for everyone else to see as well. There's not much to her but she seems to fill the stage with her presence. I struggle to reconcile the woman she is on stage with the awkward, babbling kid that I can't stand to be around…and can't stand to be without.**

If Tara was surprised to find herself at the front of the crowd, near the base of the stage, it never fully registered. The rest of the crowd and their accompanying noises disappeared for her. All she saw was Willow, illuminated in the spotlights. Beneath their glare her hair was a fiery mane flowing around her and her skin was burnished to a golden sheen. They stood in sharp contrast to the green dress that she must have hastily dragged on after the leathers she wore during her earlier show. As the short slip of a thing swirled about her upper thighs, Tara knew she preferred its soft lines to the hard black leather.

With one hand wrapped casually around the pole beside her, Willow tipped backwards with a graceful arch of her back. With her head tipped backwards, her upside down eyes locked onto Tara. Willow allowed herself a smile at the sight of the ex-cop's awkward pose. Her arms folded stubbornly across her chest, legs soldier straight as though she would not allow herself to relax and respond to her emotions. As Willow pulled herself back up to hug the pole she kept her eyes locked on Tara, determined to force a reaction.

In fact, that would be the focus of the rest of her performance. The whole routine, every sensuous movement, would be calculated to drive Tara wild. She would imagine that her cold metal pole was Tara's body, and each caress would strive to bring warmth to that icy exterior. Although Kitty's was packed, as it always was for one of her gigs, every other face in the bar was erased. There was only one person in Willow Rosenberg's audience.

She flaunted the smooth lines of the green dress she wore…while she still wore it at least, for her next trick would see it removed completely. Willow stalked the pole with all the confidence and seductive guile that she lacked in everyday interaction with Tara. In her stage environment, Tara was seduced with ruthless effectiveness…or at least the pole was. She progressed with brutal caresses of her arms, legs and entire body that left little to the imagination. As soon as she spied Tara's lips part, even only a fraction, Willow knew her dance was having the desired effect. She knew that she was dancing as she never had before. With sudden deft movements, she peeled the little green dress away from her shoulders. It had hung there so precariously in the first place that it slipped over her arms and down her body as though it were water. Like a green puddle, it pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it, kicking it away like a discarded rag.

Willow was left dancing the skimpiest of underwear sets but her only concern was Tara's reaction. Even as she gyrated about the pole with her almost naked body, she watched the blonde for any hint of disapproval, or even revulsion and anger. There was not a trace of any, nothing except for the continued parting of lips and a pair of very wide eyes.

**Oh…my…fucking…god. As I stand watching I desperately want someone to drag me away from what I'm seeing up on that stage. But no one does…and she continues to drive me wild.**

Still moving around the pole, Willow's hands left it to trail over her body, fingers moving lightly over her taut stomach, hips and down over her thighs before back up to her breasts. She traced the outline of the perfect features in turn with the tip of her index finger before caressing the nipple beneath the scrap of fabric that covered them. Staring directly at Tara she slipped each hand beneath the bra to cup both breasts, fingers moving beneath the fabric teasingly.

**I feel my palms slick with sweat and a fire between my legs as I continue to watch her dance. The green dress is gone and in its place are two matching scraps of fabric that barely pass for items of clothing. A stringy affair covers her breasts, while a pair of just as stringy underwear cling to her hips. She turns, revealing those fabulous arse cheeks. Very little is left to the imagination but mine runs wild anyway. She's working that pole as though it were born next to her and her hands are stroking her body as though they belong to someone who loves her fiercely. Fuck I wish they were mine! When she straddles the pole with both legs, sliding to the floor and back to her feet again, I nearly keel over.**

The music was in to its final flourishes before Tara realised that the dance had to end. She knew that she could have stood watching Willow for hours to come. However, as she brought herself back to reality, back to the noise and smell of Kitty's, she saw the fine sheen of sweat that coated Willow's body and the gentle but insistent rise and fall of her chest that indicated just how much the dance had taxed the redhead.

She watched Willow raise her leg, wrap it around the pole and fly around it one last time to finish with her body horizontal, supported by her leg and one arm holding the pole. Tara ran her eyes over the taut lines of Willow's body, realising just how finely toned the young woman was. She eventually lowered her legs to the ground and moved away from the pole as the enthusiastic Kitty's crowd started up with applause punctured with catcalls and shrill whistles.

Willow was smiling broadly but staring straight at Tara as though she were expecting something. Even when she stepped down from the stage, she kept her eyes locked with the blonde's. Almost of their own accord, Tara's feet began moving, following Willow as she disappeared into a shadowed alcove behind the stage. With the catcalls from the audience still lingering in their ears, Tara found herself moving forward into Willow's body, folding the sweaty girl into her embrace. Willow peered up at Tara, her face shining with exertion and abandon.

"How'd I do?" she asked, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

"You were fucking amazing," Tara whispered in a choked voice. "You can certainly dance."

"I know I can dance," Willow replied firmly, although exhilarated and slightly out of breath she kept her eyes on the woman holding her in her arms. "I don't need you to tell me that…although thanks."

Tara frowned in confusion. "Willow, what else am I supposed to say?"

The redhead unleashed a positively evil smirk which astounded Tara with the clear implications behind it, made all the more worse when Willow nudged one thigh between the folds of Tara's coat and between her legs. The little vixen them grabbed Tara's arse with both hands and pulled her close. The movement succeeded in jamming a thigh hard against Tara's now aching sex.

Tara heard her own breath catch, although she had absolutely no control over it. She followed it up with a low groan that escaped through gritted teeth.

"How did I do?" Willow repeated, moving her thigh in a discreet rhythm against Tara's body.

**I could barely hear her over the blood pounding in my ears but I could see her. Green eyes in the middle of that pale little face, still flushed with sweat, staring up at me like they're about to swallow me whole…something is gonna swallow me up after what I'm about to do, although in all likelihood it's probably gonna be hell.**

Tara stooped slightly, her cheek coming to rest against Willow's as she whispered in her ear. "I think this answers your question."

She then pulled back, but only far enough to find Willow's lips and smother them with her own. The redhead's lips parted almost instantly, an indication of her readiness, and Tara's tongue disappeared within that heavenly warm space between them. There she found Willow's tongue and explored it with firm, lavish caresses that sent shivers down both their spines.

Neither woman was interested in the fact that they were still standing in Kitty's, not entirely hidden from view. The only thought that was running through Tara's mind was sweeping Willow up into her arms and finding the nearest bed, or couch…or chair.

It was a good thing that they were interrupted when they were, just as Tara was about to force her hand beneath Willow's bra with the intention of getting her hands on the holy grail that lay beneath.

"Hey, Maclay!"

Tara broke the kiss abruptly as she recognised Faith's angry sounding voice. She turned immediately to face the interruption but kept both her arms defensively around Willow. As Faith approached, Tara fully expected her to lash out physically. Instead, the other woman's face remained seriously stony and she kept both hands at her sides. Whatever the reason for the interruption it became clear that it had nothing to do with her less than honourable intentions toward Willow.

"Faith?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got some serious trouble…"


	8. Assault on the Golden Palace

**Chapter 8  
Assault on the Golden Palace**

**I stare at the body lying face down on the floor. It's a must-have accessory for any hotel room truly aspiring to have that 'authentic' Basin City feel. Too quote the cliché, I've seen enough dead bodies in my time that this one should be completely unremarkable. It would be, apart from the fact that it's on the floor of my hotel room. The pistol still held in a lifeless hand indicates that it was not meant to be a friendly visit.**

"I've seen bodies in the Palace before," Faith remarked from where she stood to Tara's left.

She appeared just as unimpressed as Tara. Obviously the Palace was an establishment which had seen its fair share of dead bodies. The body was non-descript. It was just an ordinary looking guy wearing a crumpled suit. He lay on his back with a single bullet wound through the chest and blood had spread out across the carpet beneath him. Tara saw the look of annoyance on Faith's face and thought she was probably more worried about the bloodstain on the carpet and inconvenience of getting rid of the thing.

Faith stared at Anya, who was on the verge of hysterics and currently being consoled by Willow and Dawn. She decided she wouldn't get much out of the blonde woman and looked to another of the ladies who stood over the body with a grim expression.

"Mandy, where's the problem, couldn't you just dump it?" Faith demanded before her gaze travelled to Tara, a smirk appearing on her face. "You interrupted the live sex show that Willow and Tara were about to perform for the audience at Kitty's…nice show by the way, Willow."

Tara stifled a growl that warned Faith she was treading on very dangerous ground with her little joke. Still standing at Anya's side, Willow ducked her head in embarrassment. The redhead clutched her thick coat tightly around herself as underneath she still wore the same underwear in which she had performed. Mandy did not appear concerned at Willow and Tara's combined embarrassment or for ruining Faith's fun, instead, she deftly flicked the guy's coat open with the toe of one of her pumps. That single movement changed everything. Faith's expression changed almost instantly from one of annoyance to one of barely contained apprehension bordering on horror. Gleaming on the inside of the guy's coat was a badge…a cop's badge.

"Why the fuck is there a dead cop in my place?" Faith directed her question to Mandy, who in turn inclined her head in Anya's direction as though the blonde was somehow at the root of the mess.

Everyone in the room had immediately understood what had changed when the stiff turned out to be a cop, especially Tara. It seemed as if the threat delivered by Glory's messenger a few days earlier was coming true…the cops were entering Old Town with something else on their mind other than a good time. If that wasn't enough to break the truth then the dead cop lying on the floor of a room in the Golden Palace certainly was.

"Anya?" Faith continued with her questioning, she was out to get the full picture before making any decisions, "Please tell me you didn't drive this guy to suicide?"

Anya responded by unleashing a hysterical stream of incomprehensible words and Dawn glared at Faith for provoking her. "Go easy on her Faith, she shot the guy okay! He broke into the Palace and when Anya went to check out the noise he shot at her…so she fired back."

Faith raised her eyebrows and replied calmly, not willing to accept such a completely implausible explanation, "Okay, two things, Anya. Firstly, quit it with the hysterics – it's making you look very unattractive, and secondly, since when did you start carrying a loaded gun around inside?"

Anya managed to compose herself suitably before she made a reply. As she did, Tara studied the scene, like any good cop would. She moved about the room taking a mental note of everything that appeared to be a part of the puzzle. The orientation of the stiff, the broken window and Anya's compact purse gun lying on the floor at her feet. She ended up standing by the window with her back to everyone else when Anya spoke.

"My last client had just left in a rather foul mood, he kept claiming he hadn't had his money's worth…even though he most certainly did! I had Lola and her girls escorted him out," Anya spoke indignantly, as though she couldn't believe a customer of hers was not satisfied by her ministrations. "So when I heard the window break and all the banging and crashing next door here, I grabbed my gun thinking it was the bastard coming back."

"And decided to check it out for yourself?" Faith asked sceptically. "Anya, we don't keep you around here for your security skills…and you're not exactly known for your bravery. Why didn't you just call Lola?"

"Because any fucker who thinks I don't give good value for money deserves a lesson!" Anya snapped, stomping one of her bare feet for effect. "I walked in here and the bastard shot at me…I fired back but when I turned on the lights it wasn't him at all, it was this guy."

Anya pointed at the stiff and then folded her arms across her chest, over her flimsy, short nightgown. Tara frowned, nothing added up. She walked across to the body and hunkered down beside it. The bullet had entered his chest, leaving a substantial tear in the flesh.

"Tara?" Willow spoke up, so far she had said nothing since they had arrived on the scene.

Tara didn't reply, she stood and walked to the door where a single bullet had torn a chunk from the doorframe. Her fingers reached up and traced the splintered wood as she pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"You were standing in the doorway?" Tara's question was obviously directed at Anya, although she did not turn and face her.

"Damn bastard nearly took my ear clean off," Anya replied, touching the appendage just to reassure herself that it was still there.

"Pretty fucking awful shot for a cop," Tara remarked. "Missing from such close range."

"She said it was dark," Mandy added, brow furrowed in an effort to understand where Tara was leading with her enquiry.

"The room was dark yes, Anya's eyes would have had to adjust from the lit hallway into the dark room whereas he was already in the dark, the door opens and there's Anya framed in the lit doorway…hence the fucking awful shot," Tara turned and placed herself in the centre of the doorframe, almost as Anya would have stood when she opened the door. "And you fired two shots?"

Anya nodded in reply and Dawn added helpfully, "And one of them hit?"

"No, they both missed," Tara said gruffly.

Faith grunted. "I've always said you couldn't hit the side of a barn, Anya."

"Then what the bloody hell happened here?" Mandy threw up her hands in frustration.

"Someone else shot him, the hole in his chest wasn't made by that pop gun Anya was wielding, her two shots went here…"

Tara crossed the room, stepping directly over the dead body in the middle, before touching the wall between two unmistakable bullet holes punched through the wall. She then turned and faced the rest of the room, all eyes were fixed on her as though she had just stripped naked and done a little dance.

"Good catch," Dawn nudged Willow's side with her elbow. "She's fucking brilliant."

"Not really, simple, superficial crime scene investigation…and I've put enough bullet holes in people to know what kind of mess they make," Tara stated matter-of-factly.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" Faith demanded of the ex-cop, obviously not as impressed as everyone else was with her 'C.S.I' skills.

"I'm saying Anya didn't kill him," Tara replied, unruffled by Faith's attitude. "And although I can't say who did for sure I've got my theory as to who was behind it all…it sure as hell wouldn't be the cops, as corrupt as most of them are, they would never stoop this low. It's an awful lot like Glory's work…she'd love this sort of stuff."

"You're so busy thinking like a cop you're missing the point Maclay. It doesn't matter who shot him or why, all that matters is he's dead on our turf…right in the guts of our turf. It means war plain and simple," Faith stood with her arms folded staunchly across her chest. "That's all that matters."

Tara couldn't accept what Faith had taken to be a given. "Talk to the cops, there's still some good people left who would stand up to the Talbot's." Tara bit her lip as soon as the words were out, they sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

"Who, Tara?" Faith demanded, seizing on Tara's discomfort, "I'm pretty fucking sure that you were the last bona fide hero in Basin City and look where you ended up! You wouldn't be able to do jack for us. The only people who are going to get us out of this mess are ourselves."

"Get Willow out of the building then, and Dawn, Anya, everyone who doesn't need to be here…"

All the women in the room were alarmed when what remained of the window burst inwards, the exploding glass accompanied by a dark black shape. In the successive heartbeat, Faith whipped her pistol from its holster and would have dropped the intruder in an instant had she not recognised Buffy in her silky black Asian-style garb. The blonde woman dropped silently to the floor and rolled swiftly to her feet. Almost as soon as Buffy was inside and back on her feet, the wail of cop sirens filled the air outside. Everyone inside the Golden Palace knew that it was now too late to get out.

Buffy gave the body a single glance before lightly padding across the floor to stand before Faith who immediately saw the single tear in the sleeve of her loose fitting shirt. She was well aware that if their bullets could find Buffy then there was no way anyone else would get through. Buffy nodded in silent agreement, her small face stormy with anger as though she were pissed that someone had actually managed to hit her…even if it had only been her clothing.

Faith issued orders coolly and efficiently. "It's too late to get anyone out…Buffy, you know where you need to be…"

The deadly blonde woman nodded curtly again and was off at a run towards the stair well. She would make her way to the rooftop and from there make short and nasty work of any cop who tried to get into the Palace via that route.

As Buffy disappeared, Faith continued, looking around Tara's hotel room to search out her younger Ladies. As she did, she saw Tara's eyes dart discreetly to where Willow was standing still consoling Anya, a trace of anguish hidden behind a stony gaze.

**Fucking brilliant. As I stand in that room with the dead body and the incredibly brave and foolish women who act as though they're the fucking Light Brigade, I can't take my eyes from the kid standing in the corner. This whole business has already gone far enough and I've at least got to try and end it.**

"Willow and Dawn, I want you to…"

Tara's sudden vice-like grip on her elbow interrupted cut her short and she turned to face her with an impatient expression. Faith wasn't impressed at being manhandled from the hotel room and out of the line of sight of the room's occupants.

"Stop this nonsense! I'm going out there, to hand myself over before any shit can start and you all get yourselves killed!" Tara hissed in a low voice so as not to be overheard.

"It's not just about you anymore Tara!" Faith jabbed the taller woman hard in the chest with her index finger as she continued. "It's about who owns Old Town."

Faith could not afford to stand still and argue with Tara, she was on the move, a general marshalling her troops with an efficiently any military leader would be envious of. "Willow…Dawn, I want you to barricade yourselves in the third floor laundry. The rest of you, mount up, time for a good old fashioned shoot 'em up."

She then moved down the hallway, forcing Tara to trot along behind her like a dog…an analogy Tara was not impressed with. Faith was moving down the main stairs two steps at a time with Tara right behind her.

"People…Ladies, are going to die, is it worth it?" Tara persisted, even if Faith appeared not to be listening.

Faith didn't pause for a moment, or even bother to look over her shoulder at Tara. "Fuck yes it is! If we don't go to war now then none of us will ever be safe again. It will be a return to the old days of beatings and rape and men taking what they want from us whenever they want. Do you want that for Willow?"

Tara growled, now following Faith deeper into the bowels of the Golden Palace. "It's not going to happen, I'll protect her."

Faith was quick to respond, even as she broke into a run. "And you'll die trying…Tara, if you love her, you'll let us do this, or better still, you'll fight with us."

As though to back up her point, Faith stabbed a combination into a pad beside the door she had come to a halt in front of. The pad clicked and Faith swung the door inwards, she flicked on the lights to reveal a small arsenal of weapons stacked on shelves and in racks. Clearly the Ladies were well prepared for a rainy day. Faith picked up an empty holster and chucked it to Tara as though that were the end of their argument.

Tara stared back at her and then at the cold steel in the rack opposite her. Before she knew what she was doing, she shrugged the leather coat from her shouldersand tossed it to one side. Such a cumbersome item of clothing would only hinder her movements. She was left clad in Faith's cast off leather pants and her white prison issue vest which served to remind her of exactly where she did not want to return. The webbing for the holster slipped comfortably over her shoulders, the twin holsters nestling in the small of her back. She then selected a pair of her favourite Berettas from a rack nearest her, effortlessly slamming clips into both and then sliding them into the little pouches on her back. For the first time in eight years she felt the weapons comfortable weight and the security that came from knowing she could draw both in a heartbeat. With the Berettas in her hand, she knew exactly how much damage she could do, and just how hard she was to stop.

Faith looked on appreciatively, a small smile on her face.

"Why not," Tara replied, meeting Faith's gaze. "I've got nothing better to do."

**That was all I could say, 'nothing better to do'…as though I was about to sit down to watch TV or eat a meal instead of try to save the woman I love.**

* * *

The Golden Palace's exterior had seen better days, along with the rest of it. As the figure in the car peered up at it he smirked, seeing not just a rundown hotel, but the scene of his triumph and vindication. He would finally get to pay back that bitch for what she did to him. Pay her back by killing her and all the stupid whores who had taken her in. He knew full well how much a cop like her hated innocent people getting hurt or killed. It was the reason behind everything. If Maclay had been corrupt like every other good cop, he would have had his fun with that kid eight years ago and that would be the end of it. Instead he was a shadow of his former self, unable to get out of the car in which he sat even if he wanted to.

He saw police Captain Brewer approach his window and lowered it the merest fraction. The cop nodded respectfully, awaiting his orders. They were predictably short.

"Kill as many of them as you can, try not to kill Maclay but if it happens…well, it happens," he liked the sound of it.

"With all due respect, I thought Maclay was wanted alive?" Brewer asked cautiously, not wanting to offend him.

"You know full well what happened to Amai, Brewer," he snarled from inside the car, "Do you want my mother's little pet watch dog, Spike, to do the same to you?"

Brewer shivered noticeably, "No sir."

"Then I'd do what I say if I were you Captain Brewer, lest you piss me off…and you can be rest assured that I'm just as nasty and unforgiving as my mother."

Brewer glanced up at the Golden Palace, he like many of the other cops had enjoyed many a wild party thrown by the Ladies in the hotel, all attended unknown to his wife of course. Although a glance was all he spared the place, he only had to think of the fat envelope that would greet him after this job was finished to forget all about those parties and concentrate instead on 'officially' sanctioned destruction and murder.

"Yessir, Mr Talbot, no problem."

* * *

Tara peered from the window and saw the cop cars parked down on the street below and the cops swarming about, assuming their positions. She felt a strange sense of irony wash over her, as though she was seeing events unfold from someone else's perspective.

**I should be used to seeing things from the wrong side of the law by now. Especially after eight years behind bars and now running with Basin City's most notorious prostitute cartel. I know the majority of the cops down there are following an order issued by the morally bankrupt fuckers above them but I also know the real truth is that those grunts would have no qualms about those orders. They're cut from the same mould as that backstabbing ex-partner of mine, Seamus O'Hara. Rotten scum who would sell their own mothers for the merest hint of a cut of whatever's going down. As I look down at them scurrying around in their uniforms, wearing badges that mean nothing, I realise that I'm beginning to enjoy being on the supposedly wrong side of the law. The more I think about it, the more right it seems. You know a city is fucked up when the good guys are drawn from the criminal element.**

"Am I interrupting your concentration?" Willow's soft voice sounded from behind Tara.

Tara shifted slightly so her head no longer presented a nice ripe target in the window and she turned her attention to Willow. The red head had been quick to change from her stage costume. She had donned a pair of well-worn jeans, a plain grey sweater and her red Converse shoes. Her hair still hung long about her face and down her back.

"Vigil more like," Tara replied, feeling years worth of weariness lift from her shoulders at the mere sight of Willow.

"Do you think whoever planted that body knew you'd be able to figure it all out?" Willow asked quietly as she too strained for a view out the window.

Tara promptly placed her hand atop Willow's head and pushed her back down before she had the chance to see anything. Willow plopped ungracefully backwards onto her arse. She opened her mouth to protest but received a rather stern look and she closed it again.

Tara shook her head. "It doesn't matter how it got there…if Anya had charged in there with no weapon, the ruse would have been foiled completely. They did it because they can, to show us just how powerless we are in this game."

"Well, it's not very nice," was Willow's heartfelt reply.

Tara felt her facial muscles soften as though she was just one slight movement away from a smile. Willow shared none of Tara's emotional reluctance and a warm smile spread across her face despite the situation they found themselves in. They remained like that for a few moment before the reality of what was going on outside came crashing back to Tara. In fact, she was mortified that Willow was anywhere near the front lines, in this case, the windows.

"I recall Faith telling you to get your arse to the laundry," Tara's tone became gruff and serious. "If all hell breaks loose-"

"Then I'm safest at your side," Willow interrupted promptly.

"Like hell you are," Tara was unconvinced. "I want you out of the way."

"Tara, if things turn to poo-poo around here them it's going to be bad for everyone no matter where they are," Willow knew full well she made a good point. "Besides, we need to have a serious chit-chat you and I."

"Willow, we're under siege by a bunch of greedy cops who don't give a damn whether we live or die, now is not the time for chit-chat…serious or not!" Tara felt the cold weight of the pistols nestled against her back.

"We kissed Tara…unless you've already forgotten about Kitty's and the dance…and the skimpy little outfit and us smooching practically in front of the whole crowd." When Tara did not respond immediately Willow felt a sudden stab of anger but she kept it on a leash. "Are you going to go all staunch and quiet on me…or blame everything on my outfit?"

"A lot can be blamed on your outfit, Willow," Tara replied dryly, again almost cracking a smile. She lifted her head a fraction and peered out the window to confirm the cops hadn't moved in the last few minutes, she was still looking out the window when she finished her sentence. "But my actions can't."

"What can you blame it on then?" Willow response was immediate, for better or worse she was going to drag everything out of Tara, especially how the hardened ex-cop felt about her. "I wouldn't think that Tara Maclay would change her mind without good cause."

Tara watched the cops for a few more moments before turning back to Willow, she met the redhead's gaze evenly. Willow had a determined set to her jaw and a gleam in her eye that hinted she was more than ready for a fight. She was dealing with the issues important to her, and everything else currently going on could go to hell. Against all better judgement, Tara knew that this was exactly what she wanted, even though the surrounding circumstances could have been better. Sitting in a rundown whorehouse with an army of cops outside and a cold hard weapon in your hands didn't exactly have romantic connotations.

"I love you, Willow," the words came out as one drawn out sigh, soft and tender as they ought to be. However, as if to reaffirm her fears, a siren blared at the precise moment she spoke and drowned them out completely.

"You what?" Willow frowned in frustration, she had barely seen Tara's lips move.

**I outwardly grimaced at the thought of having to repeat those horrid but delicious words. Sirens continue to wail outside and I wish I could leap from the window and silence them all for this one moment. There are the cops outside, poised with their cannons ready to rip into flesh regardless of how innocent it is…and then there is this beautiful little minx sitting in front of me. Someone who deserves far more than all this…more than this grumpy old escaped criminal…but I suddenly realise I don't care. I wish those sirens would shut the fuck up!**

"I fucking love you, Willow Rosenberg!" Tara heard herself almost shout.

There was no trace of surprise on Willow's face after the words had been uttered, but rather a little grin of triumph, a grin which Tara thought was entirely justified after the effort she had expended in trying to woo someone who had all but declared themselves eternally celibate.

The sirens stopped as though on cue for Willow, and Tara lifted her head to the window, suspicious of the silence. There was still no movement towards the building.

"I should be pissed off at your for making me wait so long…not to mention being a big meanie with all your denial," was Willow's honest reply when she had regained Tara's attention once more. "And the fact that you've wasted our time together with your sulking and now I'll probably die without ever even seeing you naked."

Tara arched her eyebrows in Willow's direction and replied in a deadpan voice. "Don't count your chickens before they hatch, kiddo."

Just as a pout was beginning to form on Willow's face, she saw the barest hint of a smile pass across Tara's lips. It was only for a second as Tara must have felt it growing and turned quickly to peer out the window once more, her face lost to Willow. When she faced her again, it was gone, replaced by the serious Tara she knew all too well.

"I promise you're not going to die Willow," Tara stated firmly. "Although I might think about doing you myself if you don't listen to me and get to the laundry."

"I will if you include me getting to see you naked in that promise of yours?" Willow asked cheekily.

Tara smirked, and was about to reply when the window above her shattered in a thunderous hail of gunfire. Panes of glass showered both Willow and Tara. Mere seconds after the shooting began, Tara grabbed Willow and rolled her away from the window, shielding her beneath her body. They lay, Tara's cheek pressed against Willow's forehead, her arms around her head. She felt the glass raining down on her and the sharp sting of each as it cut into the bare flesh on her arms.

Beneath her, Willow's fingers clung to the fabric of her vest in terror. The redhead's breath came hard and fast against Tara's neck.

"I'm sorry," Willow whispered in Tara's ear, her voice barely sounding over the hail of gunfire.

"Don't be," Tara replied fiercely.

"If it's worth anything, I fucking love you too," Willow continued, her tone just as fierce.

The gunfire ceased and Tara knew they were going to come a split second later. She lifted her head and stared deep into those green eyes beneath her. The moment lingered beyond all sense of real time.

"It's worth everything," she replied in one breath.

As soon as the words were out, Tara was moving. She bounced onto her haunches to deposit a quick kiss on Willow's forehead before practically throwing the redhead beneath a nearby coffee table. There was barely enough space for her to squeeze beneath it. Then she was on her feet, her boots grinding glass beneath them. She was about to feel for the Berettas at her back when something slammed into the side of her head. Tara reeled backwards against the wall behind her, feeling as though the side of her head had been blown away. She raised her hand to the source of the pain, expecting to find a mangled mess rather than the narrow graze she did find. Thrown off balance she was caught unprepared when a cop in full SWAT armour and helmet flew through the window. He had time to disconnect himself from his harness and move at Tara before she was able to collect herself from the bullet grazing her head. She stared down the barrel of a gun for far too many seconds before her arm lashed out and swiped it to one side. Bullets spewed from the weapon in an arc around Tara, punching holes in the wall dangerously close to her body.

**My movements feel sluggish as I struggle with the cop, I try to keep the barrel of his weapon away from my body but I'm so tired, every muscle aches and I just want to go to sleep. There's a flash of red hair in the corner of my eye. It's more than just a glimpse of the kid, it's seeing the woman I love and all the associated pain that comes with it. It's hurts like hell and I'm glad for it. I feel stronger. I know that I can't let anything end today.**

**My life has just begun. **


	9. One Hell of a Party

**Chapter 9 **  
**One Hell of a Party**

**I'm paying too much attention to much attention to Willow for my own safety but lady luck's on my side and the SWAT bastard catches his leg on the corner of a chair, losing balance. It's enough for me to lunge forward and get both my hands on his weapon. We wrestle for it. As we struggle, I look into his eyes and see the fear plain enough. I know that it's not the fear of a man who doesn't want to die…but rather the fear of one who doesn't want to miss out on his spoils of victory. My face morphs into a sneer and I press forward with all my strength.**

Tara felt a sickening chatter course through her body as the weapon she fought over suddenly flared into life. The cop's finger had jammed down on the trigger in the struggle and the weapon now rained potential death in all directions. Bullets slammed into the ceiling above and plaster fell in chunks on their heads. The few intact windowpanes behind the cop were smashed outwards. In a split second, it added a whole new element to their struggle. Tara struggled to keep the muzzle from pointing not only in her own direction, but also in any direction that it could potentially hit a Lady….or Willow.

She was so close to the SWAT guy, she saw the sweat dripping from beneath his helmet and felt the heat of his breath on her face. Every sensation was condensed, her limits of awareness contained within the space which they occupied. Tara felt her muscles bulge with effort, veins threatening to burst beneath her skin.

The gun slipped in sweaty hands, its muzzle falling in an arc to punch a neat trail of bullet holes in the nearby wall. The arc continued swiftly, although it seemed to Tara as though it were falling in slow motion. She knew that if it continued to spray the room as wildly as it was, something nasty would happen. A short screech of pain a split second later told her something had. The SWAT man's hold on the trigger instantly relaxed and the gun's potentially lethal chattering ceased. Tara found herself with the gun in her hands only, its smoking muzzle pointed directly at the bullet hole it had made in her opponents right foot. With the guy seconds away from hoping around madly like a one-legged chicken, Tara raised the butt of the weapon and struck him soundly on his temple. With barely a further sound he slipped to the floor and landed atop the broken glass.

Tara had no time whatsoever to rest on her victory, or attend to Willow, as the gun was smashed from her hands by a well placed foot. Her next opponent was fast, his fists raised and feet planted in a combat position before she could recover from his first blow. She didn't even have time to snatch her Berettas from their twin holsters at her back before his fist connected with her face in a powerful blow. Tara's head snapped backwards and she stumbled until her back slammed into the wall behind her. She barely had time to get a good look at her attacker before his next blow, all she saw was a cruel face twisted into a horrible approximation of a grin.

His fists fell in a flurry, knocking her head left and right as her vision blurred. Tara managed to push herself away from the wall only to be met instantly by a firmly planted foot in the middle of her chest. The air expelled from her lungs as she went flying to land with a thud on her back.

With all the resolution of one who had too much to lose to give into a two-bit SWAT man, Tara lashed out with her own leg in a swinging kick. Although it lacked power, it was unexpected enough to take him by surprise and knock him from his feet. Tara knew full well he had expected her to be down and out for the count after the flurry of punches she had sustained. She somehow found enough strength to drag herself to her feet, letting out a small groan as she did. She knelt, trying to recollect her scattered consciousness. Blood dripped steadily from her nose to the carpet below. Tara followed one drop with her eyes, watching as it fell in slow motion, bright red, before making a small splash of colour on the floor below.

From the corner of her eye she saw her opponent rise to one knee and shake his head. When he lifted his gaze, Tara met it full on. Her confident, ice blue gaze stared him down. She stood first and he followed, neither seeming to be in a hurry to pounce.

Thoughts were running through Tara's head like wildfire. She knew full well that she could draw both Beretta's and pump him full of lead before he could even think about unslinging the weapon from his shoulder. Although she knew full well such a move could save her life, her hands did not move a hairsbreadth towards her guns. The thought of drawing the weapons and plugging the guy in full view of Willow caused her a discomfort she had never felt before. She could see the redhead from the corner of her eye, still beneath the table as the fight raged around her. She was still safe although her eyes were wide with fear.

Tara moved, her foot planted forward as she brought her right fist up in a powerful uppercut to his jaw. His head snapped back instantly and she did not give him a moment to recover, laying into him with several further blows. On the fourth, he managed to get in a weak block, enough to throw her off and merely graze the side of his helmet. This energized him and they traded blows back and forth, moving within a relatively small space of the room as Tara did her best to keep him as far away from Willow as possible. She saw a gap and shoved her knee up hard into his groin, he groaned and doubled over slightly. It was all the time she needed to perform a spinning roundhouse kick which caught him a cracking blow on the side of his helmet. He went straight to the ground and lay in a groggy heap beneath her.

"Behind you!" Willow's voice barely registered over the sirens outside and the sounds of fighting inside but Tara's ears picked up the familiar sound.

Despite the warning, all she had time to do was lift her own arms as thick, burly arms wrapped themselves around her neck in a chokehold. Tara managed to get her hands between his arms and her neck which instantly rendered his hold less effective. Even so, she felt the arm muscles that held her strain with effort, tightening their hold on her until she could barely squeeze a breath out.

Tara felt hot breath and stubble on her cheek as the SWAT officer leaned in close to gloat over the prize he held. "Gonna get me a nice little bonus for your arse

**I struggle against the tree-like arm effectively cutting off my air supply, legs flailing and stomping the floor rather pathetically. To add to my humiliation his free hand travels down my body and he squeezes whatever flesh takes his fancy. I try to growl but with his hand across my throat all that emerges is a pathetic squeak. From my position, I can clearly see Willow emerging from her hiding place, one thing obviously on her mind…freeing me. Fuck knows what she's thinking she's going to be able to do with those tiny little mits of hers. I imagine her coming at him in all her fury, balled fists striking flesh to no effect. Sorry kiddo, but I'm not going to let you play hero. This guy's mine.**

Before Willow had even made up her mind as just how she was going to stop that great brute from strangling Tara to death, she watched as Tara moved in a blur of motion. Tara grabbed the guy's great big groping paw in both hands and wrenched it backwards suddenly. A sickening crunch and a howl of pain followed immediately. This was followed just as quickly by Tara's body moving in a twisting motion beneath his weakened grasp as she brought herself face to face with him.

One side of Tara's lips curled upwards into an amused, lopsided smile when she saw the expression on her attacker's face. His features were contorted in pain, eyes squeezed like a child struggling not to cry. Tara's grin slid from her face to be replaced by a mask of business-like efficiency as she went to work on him. Her knee came up hard, ramming straight into his groin. Before he even had time to clutch his balls in agony, her fists were pounding into his face. The blows knocked him left and right.

He managed to get in one poorly timed swing which she ducked beneath effortlessly. She moved around his body where she delivered several short punches to his ribs. The SWAT man was no lightweight but by this stage he had dropped to his knees in front of Tara, a dazed ruin of his threatening self. Tara grabbed his head with both hands and held him upright, sneering at him in contempt,

"How do you like this piece of arse now?" she drawled.

She didn't wait for a reply. Her knee rose once again, although this time it caught him full beneath the jaw and snapped his head back brutally. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Tara gave the crumpled heap of a man no more regard than a pile of steaming shit as she turned and searched out the one person she did give a damn about at that moment…Willow. No sooner has she spun around, than she found Willow. The young woman stood in the middle of the carnage, glass and bodies flying behind her and yet she was oblivious to everything except Tara. She stood awkwardly, the reason for this being the gun cradled in her hands and pointed in the general direction of Tara's fallen assailant.

She had obviously retrieved the fallen weapon but her uncertainty was written plainly across her face. As soon as her eyes met Tara's she threw it to the ground as though it were about to explode in her hands. She was still staring at the weapon when Tara tackled her bodily and threw her back against the small section of wall between the windows behind her.

"I told you to stay put!" Tara hissed angrily in Willow's ear, running her hands over the redhead's body to check for bullet holes or any other wounds. All she could find was a small cut on Willow's neck from a piece of flying glass.

"That guy was strangling you to death!" Willow replied defiantly, green eyes flashing.

Tara glared in return, determined to have it out further with Willow but she was all too aware of their situation. She turned to face the chaos once more, shielding Willow with her body as she desperately searched for a way out for the redhead.

* * *

Police Captain Brewer listened intently to the melee of his men's voices sounding through his earpiece. From where he observed the storming of the Palace on the street outside and listened to the chaotic reports from his SWAT team on the scene, events seemed to be proceeding less than satisfactorily. Those goddamn whores were putting up too much resistance, even in the face of his elite SWAT team. Brewer ground his teeth in frustration, wishing he could just set fire to the whole place and damn the consequences. Hell, he'd burn all of Old Town without blinking an eye and the cops would just have to find a new place to party.

Brewer felt a chill run down his spine, instinctively he looked over his shoulder. A shape moved behind him and he spun around to find Glory's pet assassin bearing down on him. He sneered mockingly, to him characters like Spike had no place in law enforcement…even in Basin City. His gaze travelled over the peroxided hair, the white t-shirt and down over the leather coat billowing about his legs. Who the hell was he trying to impress?

Mocking thoughts of a similar vein continued through Brewer's mind right up until the moment he died. Spike advanced on him, barely pausing in his stride as he reached out, grabbed Brewer's head and snapped his neck. The pale assassin tossed the corpse into the gutter and continued to the tinted rear window of the black merc parked a safe distance from the fray.

The window punctured and shattered beneath his fist as it smashed straight through its centre. Even as glass showered the passenger inside, Spike was reaching through the opening to grab him by the front of his expensive wool suit and drag him effortlessly out. The weedy little man howled indignantly in protest as he emerged and was slammed back up against the car behind him. Spike sneered, his face just inches away from the other man's.

The guy was skinny, even the expensive cut of his wool suit could not hide the fact that it hung on his frame. There was also something odd about his legs. Even though Spike held him a foot from the ground, they dangled at an odd angle and did not look as though they could support his insignificant weight.

He would have been handsome if not for his sagging, limp skin and hollow cheeks. Black hair hung in limp strands down to his shoulders. His delicate but sallow features were torn between an expression of outrage and one of terror.

"Little Tommy Talbot playing cop with the big boys now are we?" Spike spat in his face, his tone condescending and mocking.

"Goddammit Spike, this is my show…fuck off!" Talbot squeaked in a valiant effort to sound like he had balls.

Spike let out an irritated grunt and without warning released his hold on Talbot's clothing. Talbot landed hard on his spindly legs and they instantly collapsed beneath him. His accompanying cry was ear piercing…clearly Talbot was unused to being treated like a piece of trash. Spike's hand shot out once more and his fingers closed around Talbot's jaw, keeping him pressed in a pathetic, crab-like pose against his merc's car door. Tears of humiliation and pain ran down the face of Glory's son.

"You damn well know that your mother handed the reins of this horse to me, Tommy! Do you or do you not understand that to be the way of things?"

Spike watched Talbot's adam's apple as he swallowed several times before he mumbled a reply, "I might have received a text message to that effect."

Spike jammed his thumb further into Talbot's throat, displeased with the answer, "I know for a fact your mother called you into her office and extracted a promise from you that you would leave this Maclay business to me…and don't lie you little piece of cock-sucking shit because I listened in on that conversation and heard you say 'yes mummy' like the good little boy you are."

Talbot sniffed and his eyes narrowed angrily, he succeeded in meeting Spike's glare equally despite the disparity of their body positions.

"Tara Maclay is mine, my mother had no right to hand this over to you…I want that bitch flayed alive for what she did to me and then I want to claim what is rightfully mine…Willow Rosenberg!"

Spike glanced over his shoulder and up at the windows of the Palace. Smoke gushed from one and from another fell the flailing body of one of Brewer's elite SWAT cops. The cop crashed down onto the roof of a squad car in a shower of sparks and glass.

Spike turned back to face Talbot, "Nice to see you're doing such a bang up job, Tommy! Plant the body of a dead cop on the premises did you? Not personally of course because you aren't even capable of climbing on top of a real woman."

Talbot tried to lash out with his fists but was quickly stilled when Spike's thumb dug in even harder.

"So what if I did," he squeaked. "The cops are all greedy sons of bitches anyway…they didn't even need the dead cop as motivation, I just flashed the cash!"

"Well call one of those greedy sons of bitches over here and get them to call off this fiasco…and I wouldn't make it Brewer, you'll find he's not up to taking orders right now."

Talbot began to stammer but Spike was deadly unsympathetic, "Do it you little fucker, otherwise your legs won't be the only part of you that doesn't work properly!"

* * *

Tara found herself clutching her upper arm as blood seeped from a bullet wound. Behind her she could hear Willow breathing heavily in either panic or terrified exhilaration. She gritted her teeth and stared down the barrel of the still smoking weapon that had torn a hole in her flesh. It's owner, was anonymous beneath his helmet and goggles. Tara knew that would make killing him that little bit easier on her conscience but she had to get the drop on him first, he obviously had no problem with pumping her full of lead at the slightest provocation.

"Don't fuckin' move bitch, or I'll put another bullet hole between your eyes this time!"

Tara doubted that, his superiors would probably shoot him if he took he out. Her death was most likely a pleasure reserved for a much bigger fish that this grunt.

"I'm unarmed," Tara replied smoothly, there would be no begging from her.

Tara kept her gaze fastened securely on the SWAT grunt, determined to protect Willow with her own body if he opened fire again. As she watched him, she saw his head cock to one side as though he was listening to something coming through his earpiece. Tara risked a glance sideways and saw something odd happening with each of the cops. They were backing off and exiting via any aperture they could find, window, door, hole in the wall. She turned her full attention back to the cop in front of her to find he was also backing away. Once he had reached a door at his back, he turned and bolted.

The Ladies were left standing on the battlefield, surrounded by debris and bodies, some of which were still trying to crawl away. Faith reached down, grabbed one cop by the seat of his trousers and helped him out a nearby window. His scream was cut off by a dull thud into the pavement. The Lady wiped her hands before surveying the scene with a grief stricken expression. Several of her friends lay dead or wounded at her feet. She met Tara's gaze across the room and the two hard women shared a brief moment, Faith's eyes reassuring the ex-cop that she should not blame the deaths on her involvement with the Ladies.

Tara turned to face Willow.

"You're bleeding," was the redhead's immediate and redundant statement, eyes fixed on the wound in Tara's bare arm.

The ex-cop did not even spare the bullet wound a glance. "A scratch," she replied abruptly, more concerned for the cut on Willow's neck.

Willow noticed her looking and her reply was just as stoic, "A scratch."

Tara would have smiled at the redhead if not for their present circumstances. As it was, she reached out and laid a gentle reassuring hand on Willow's upper arm. She then moved to the window, peering cautiously around the ruined frame at the scene below. The cops were indeed falling back, it had not been her imagination. In the midst of it all however, she saw something that made her fingers itch for a Beretta. Standing, staring up at her window was the peroxided thug who had accosted Willow in the alley behind Kitty's. It was as though he had been expecting Tara to look down and see him. Her eyes narrowed in rage as he lifted one hand in a lazy salute. He then spun on his heels and strode in the opposite direction, offering Tara a clear shot of his back. While it was an extremely tempting target, she knew better than to let her emotions get in the way of good sense. She wanted to speak to him face to face…again. Although next time she wouldn't be so nice


	10. The Joys of Turning Soft

**Chapter 10 **  
**The Joys of Turning Soft**

**My muscles are tense and I'm poised, a split second away from throwing myself out of the window and running down that leather coated bastard. I can see it all clearly playing out in my mind, me placing one hand on the windowsill and throwing both legs over…brutally ignoring Willow' pleas for me to stop. I drop to the ground as a bird of prey stalking a rodent. He turns just as I hit the ground and immediately starts running, leather coat billowing behind him. He's not fast enough and I catch him. I wrestle him to the ground and scrape the skin from my bare forearms in the process but I couldn't care less. He's in my grasp and I lay into him with my fists. I tell myself I'm softening him up before I ask the questions but really I just want to smash the crap out of him. When he's dazed and bleeding, then I'll ask him what the fuck he has to do with all of this business. My mind will process his answers, I'll decide if he's letting the truth and whether he needs more 'softening' up. However, the whole scenario is just a thought and a small hand resting on my shoulder snaps me out of it. It's Willow, somehow knowing exactly what I'm thinking and she just shakes her head slowly. I turn away from her, not an easy thing to do, and see that the fucker has disappeared already. **

**Lucky for him…**

**I turn back to the redhead and sigh in defeat…she's going to make me go soft. **

**Later, when the carnage is cleared and we've done what we can for our wounded, me included, she leads me back to her room. I follow unquestioningly…and as I stare at her lovely arse I'm having an inkling that being soft is going to be fucking fantastic.**

* * *

Willow's fingers closed on the door to her room. She paused briefly before she turned the handle and swung it open, ushering Tara in before her. The reason for her hesitation was made apparent when she and Tara stood awkwardly in the middle of what was obviously her own personal sanctuary. For just a moment, she felt as though Tara were an intruder. However, when Tara turned and delivered one of her trademark smiles, the moment passed and she belonged.

Tara did indeed feel as though she stood out like a sore thumb against Willow's scholarly abode. Books were crammed into almost every available space in the moderately sized room, along with a solid wood writing desk that looked as though it has been sourced from the hotel manager's office in the Golden Palace's heyday. A bed was squeezed in almost as an afterthought. It was too large for the space it occupied and the end extended out past Willow's wardrobe. The wardrobe therefore had no door and Tara could see a neat row of what was obviously dancing costumes hanging in the space. She was confronted by an array of sequins and tassels in various bright colours. She turned back to face Willow and one side of her lip curled up into a small smile.

"I know what not to get you for your birthday," Tara commented dryly. "Books."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," Willow retorted immediately, feeling the immense weight that had been bearing down on her shoulders lift somewhat as a result of Tara's unexpected joviality. "Although the street is an efficient teacher, I prefer the freedom and solitude of books. You're not forced to learn like you are on the street."

Although Willow's words were world-weary, she tried to keep her tone as light as Tara's. She knew the blonde needed no reminder of what had just happened. Willow was pleased to see a twinkle remain in Tara's eyes.

"Solitude?" Tara arched an eyebrow. "Because I can go and leave you to your books if you'd like?"

Willow surprised herself by gliding across the floor to stand in front of Tara without a moment's hesitation.

Tara had to admit that she had never known anyone to move as gracefully in jeans and Converse sneakers as Willow. She remained still as the redhead slipped a pair of thin arms around her waist and fitted their bodies together like two pieces of a puzzle. Her own arms then snaked around Willow and she squeezed tightly. The movement brought a sudden stab of pain from the bullet wound in her arm which she stubbornly ignored - it was little more than a graze after all.

Willow tilted her head upwards until she was gazing up into Tara's eyes. She trued to keep the rapt adoration from creeping in such close proximity to the woman of her dreams. What she definitely could not do, was resist the urge to place her hands around Tara's neck and pull her close enough for their lips to touch. The sensitive skin had barely met before they both surged forward with a pent up intensity that didn't allow any space for breathing. As Willow met Tara's tongue in a fierce thrust she tasted the residue of battle, metallic and tangy. Even as Tara's hands travelled down her body to hold her hips firmly, hesitation returned.

Tara immediately sensed Willow's reluctance and drew back smoothly, a slight furrow to her gorgeous brow.

"Too fast," Tara immediately came to a conclusion. "Willow, I'm sorry…"

Willow silenced Tara with a brief but passionately angry kiss, she drew back with a determined expression on her face.

"Don't you dare say you're sorry Tara Maclay…or I'll begin to think you don't want me badly enough," Willow kept her face serious as she reached down to boldly cup Tara's sex. She received an immediate reaction when Tara's breath caught and she thrust her hips forward insistently. A small smile played across Willow's face when she withdrew her hand and Tara's eyes opened slowly, she whispered in the blonde's ear. "And I know just how badly you want me."

"Desire doesn't trouble me in the slightest. I can deal with it." Tara let out a long, slow breath. She was no longer sure that she could deal with her own desire. The apex of her thighs was the source of a fierce, insatiable heat. "The only thing that troubles me is you getting hurt."

Although even as the words left her lips Tara knew full well that Willow was not an innocent for all her girlish looks. It was about time she realised this, especially after seeing her perform on stage.

"I look like shit," Willow whispered. "And you really look like shit…I'm sorry but I'm worried that I'm not put off by the thought of fucking you covered in grime and blood."

Tara's eyebrows almost shot off her forehead at Willow's casual tone and the decidedly evil glint in her eyes. She was also worried by the first thought that passed through her own mind…she didn't care about the blood and grime either. It would be so easy to manoeuvre Willow to the narrow bed, Tara knew she wouldn't mind, and fight the clothes from her body.

"A shower then," Tara suggested gruffly, struggling to keep the desire from taking hold of her voice.

"My thoughts exactly," Willow replied, a little too promptly for good manners.

* * *

**I'm standing, my feet are freezing to the bathroom tiles but the goosebumps all over my naked body have nothing to do with the cold. I can barely hear the cascading water in the shower. While I stripped my own clothes off as fast as humanly possible in order to avoid having second thoughts, she's waiting for me to remove hers as well. The thought of it has my knees quivering and my lips parted in anticipation. Her sweater and t-shirt are stripped off over her head as she lifts her arms for me. Her head emerges from beneath the layers of clothing, hair askew about her face and there's a hint of a nervous smile on her lips. I try to act nonchalant as my hands rove down her body over her naked waist as I crouch before her. Squatting at her feet I remove her shoes, she steadies herself with one small hand on my shoulder. Converses tossed aside, my attention is directed towards her jeans and removing the remaining barriers between my skin and hers. The buttons pop one by one beneath my fingers, all the while I keep my gaze fixed on hers. I can see she's nervous as hell. Most people would find that strange considering she strips near naked almost every night in a room full of strangers but I know what we're doing right now is so fucking different it should be taking place in another universe. I slide the jeans down over her arse, feeling the silk smooth skin of her legs as I continue downwards. They're tossed aside like the shoes and I'm standing again, my arms securely around her waist. I caress the skin on her back as my lips pick out a trail across her shoulder to the curve of her neck. I try not to rush but before I know it my hands find her bra clasp and the garment is off and on the floor. Her tits are right in front of me and I exhale slowly. I don't want to touch them but at the same time both my hands are on those tender mounds of flesh, squeezing and caressing to reassure myself that they're really there and she's giving then to me. I'm leaning down to stuff one in my mouth while at the same time my fingers are yanking down the last piece of clothing on her body. Her knickers slide from her body and she's buck naked in my arms. I have to stop eating her tits for a moment, just so I can step back and get a full eyeful. Her arms are a little awkward at her sides but she's still poised like a dancer, lithe and sexy as hell. Her small tits thrust out towards me, still red and moist from my earlier ministrations. My eyes travel downwards to bury my gaze at the apex of her legs and the strawberry coloured mound of pubic hair that nestles there. She's so fucking gorgeous. Some part of me tries to say her name but I'm having trouble breathing let alone speaking. My vision starts to go black around the edges and I smile. Since when has Tara Maclay ever fainted at the sight of a naked woman?**

"Tara?" a small, insistent voice broke through Tara's haze. "Are you okay?"

Tara blinked once and her eyes focused on Willow's rather worried expression. She had to shake her head, not quite deciding whether the shake was to completely do away with the fluff in her head or reassure herself that this was not merely a good dream. She nodded rather clumsily in reply to Willow's question.

In response, Willow sighed as though Tara were some sort of playful torment. She placed one hand on Tara's chest and gave her a gentle shove back towards the shower box, following her close as she stumbled beneath the stream of water.

Tara stood beneath the water, feeling its warmth flow down over her naked body. It stung the wound in her arm fiercely but she stoically ignored it, instead concentrating on the naked woman standing not a foot away from her. Willow's wet hair was plastered to her head, giving her the appearance of a wet kitten. Tara reached down to pluck a wayward strand from the young woman's eye.

Willow's eyes roamed over Tara's body, picking out the numerous scars and unhealed wounds. Her hands went to the heavily taped wound in her side, tracing it gently and wondering how Tara managed to keep walking, let alone display the spectacular power she had against the cops. It was an inhuman effort to keep her eyes from devouring every inch of her body…and licking her lips as she did so. Instead she managed to assume the nonchalant air of one who had seen it all before.

She simply stated, "You're filthy." Moments later she went to work with a well soaped sponge.

Tara didn't reply, she couldn't. If Willow could pretend she wasn't standing breast to naked breast with the woman of her dreams, Tara most definitely could not.

As Willow soaped her body, washing away the accumulated blood and filth, Tara watched and felt her hands keenly. Every touch, every movement to the point where it became impossible to control her urges any longer. The fact that she hadn't been laid for over eight years meant that her body was practically screaming at her with a very need for contact. She was scared at her own urge to grab Willow and throw her bodily against the tiles of the shower wall behind her. Her eyes slid closed and her fingers clenched into fists at her side in a vain effort to keep herself under control.

**As I stand in that shower like a fuckin' plank of wood, I know she wants it as badly as I do. She wants me to thrust her back against the shower and fuck her brains out…but I can't use her like that, now matter how she feels…fuck me for having a conscience.**

With that thought, Tara felt nimble fingers move over her nipples and a sharp tug in her groin that was almost painful. She realised Willow had lost the soapy sponge and was now working over her breasts with skilful and practised hands. Already weak at the knees, Tara gritted her teeth in the face of touches that were definitely not those of a kid.

Of their own accord, her fingers unclenched at her side and a she half growled, half sighed low in her throat as if in defeat. She then moved even faster than she had fighting the cops, sweeping Willow up off her feet with two firm hands under her butt cheeks, spreading her legs in the process. Despite Tara's ferocity, Willow not only responded to the kiss with just as much passion, her legs wrapped around Tara's back and squeezed as though she was expecting to have to hold on for a wild ride.

As the water beat down on Tara's naked back, she thrust her body hard against Willow's. So firmly they were pressed together, the skin of the two women melded together as one. No movement was possible save for tongues thrust deep in each other's throats and Willow's hands moving across Tara's back. Both felt the thud of the other's heart through the skin of their chests.

Willow ripped her head away from Tara's and one hand reached up to grab Tara by the hair. She yanked Tara's ear closer to her mouth.

"I want you to fuck my brains out," Willow hissed in Tara's ear before biting savagely down on her earlobe, teeth sinking into flesh.

**There's something in her words that brings me back to my senses and without any warning I yank away from her. She's staring at me in confusion with those big green eyes and I know she's wondering what the fuck I'm on and what sort of game I'm playing, whether I want her or whether I don't know what the fuck I want. **

**I know I should speak before she gets the wrong idea, tell her I want her so bad it hurts...and I do, I want her, but not like this. It's too brutal and she deserves more of me, not just the sex starved ex-con who would take her in a heartbeat to satisfy her own lust. I'm not fast enough, and something akin to anguish passes over her features just before she throws herself out of the shower. I hear myself calling out for her to stop and it's only when she's well and truly gone that I reflect on the absurdity of Tara Maclay pleading with a woman to come back to her.**

Tara was left standing in the shower, the water beating down on her naked back suddenly seeming cold in the aftermath of her own folly. She stood watching the water run down her naked legs to swirl at her feet and lost herself in the constant motion. Her head turned slightly and she met her own accusing, blurry gaze in the badly fogged mirror. The distorted face that stared back at her was partly a result of the mirror and partly her own features twisted into an anguished scowl. She had to fight the urge to leap out of the shower and smash her fist into that face. Instead she pounded her knuckles against the tiles in front of her repeatedly until they were purpled and the skin close to breaking.

"Fuck you, Tara Maclay," she whispered. "You're a goddamn fool."

With an angry wrench, Tara shut off the flow of water and emerged from the shower. She wrapped one of the available towels around her body, tucking it firmly between her breasts.

She returned to Willow's room full of determination to find that the redhead was not there. While she seriously contemplated tearing the hotel apart searching for her, she heard the door she had left open, close behind her. Tara spun on her bare feet and found Willow without any effort. At that point in time she didn't give a damn about her pride, she was prepared to fall to her knees and beg profusely for Willow to forgive her mixed signals.

Willow didn't give Tara the chance to even open her mouth. She took a determined stride forward and planted both hands on Tara's chest to give her a violent shove backwards. Taken by surprise and unbalanced, Tara stumbled backwards until her movement was halted by a desk chair into which she fell awkwardly. Clad in only a plain white towel with her dripping hair falling limply about her face, Tara watched Willow with an expression of bewilderment and a feeling of complete helplessness. If Willow wanted to tie her into the chair and beat her to a pulp, she'd have taken every blow.

However, the only blow that followed was one to her senses.

Willow turned her back to Tara, her posture defiant. With one deft tug she pulled the ties that held her bathrobe closed and let the flimsy satin garment fall from her slim shoulders to pool like water at her feet. The blow packed more of a punch that any number of physical strikes. Tara's eyes were assaulted with the sight of Willow's creamy white skin. Tara's eyes automatically trailed down her back, moving down to her arse and the backs of her thighs before straight back to her arse again. The complete picture was broken only by the scanty black lace of Willow's bra across her back and the g-string nestled on her hips. Tara barely managed to stay upright on the chair

Willow spun on her heels, her body twisting in a simple movement that was undeniably sexual. Her hips undulated in a slow arc as she moved her arse in a slow, seductive sway while she turned. The scene unfurled in slow motion before Tara's eyes until she was struck again. Although this time it was the sight of Willow standing facing her with a smoldering green-eyed gaze that left no mystery as to the impure thoughts were running through her mind. Her gleaming wet red hair lay motionless about her shoulders and down over her chest. Willow smiled secretively before tossing her head and sending her hair cascading around her in a fiery arc. The movement flowed from her head to the rest of her body as she tossed it about in a series of graceful twirls across the short length of the room.

Tara watched the redhead's limbs moved, transfixed by the simple grace she displayed. There was nothing flamboyant or technical to Willow's movements, she simply moved as though she were aware of every inch of her body. As though she knew the effect that each movement would have on her audience…in this case, her audience of one.

Having watched Willow perform at Kitty's more than once, Tara immediately realised that this show was something altogether different. It was raw, intimate and revealing. Literally so when Willow's right hand drifted to the clasp at her back and with a quick movement, she cast the black bra aside. It was as though Tara were seeing Willow's breasts for the first time, despite having been pressed fiercely against them just minutes earlier in the shower. She watched the perfect shapes move towards her as Willow advanced. She was tantalisingly close, and yet it seemed to take an eternity for her to come close enough for Tara to touch her. When she was finally within reach, Tara did not move a muscle towards her. She knew that Willow would allow touching on her own terms.

This seemed to be foremost on Willow's mind as she moved in front of Tara, each movement taking her within scant distance of Tara's body yet keeping a huge chasm between them. Placing her hairs on either side of the chair, Willow lent in close until her breasts were right up in Tara's face.

"I'm feeling a bit warm," Willow purred in Tara's ear. "I think I have too many clothes on."

Tara's eyes moved down to the g-string Willow was wearing which was hugging her undulating hips and barely concealing her sex. However, Tara viewed that tiny piece of fabric as she would the heaviest coat, completely concealing despite that fact that almost all of Willow's body was laid bare.

"You want me to help you with that?" Tara asked, unashamed at how uncertain and youthful her own voice sounded.

"Fuck yes," Willow breathed, sliding her hips a little further towards Tara's body.

Tara reached up with trembling hands and hooked both her thumbs beneath opposite sides of the stringy garment. With a delicate tug, she began to slide it downwards, over the creamy skin of Willow's arse. The fabric covering her sex moved down, revealing the perfect red curls that nestled there. Tara continued sliding her hands down over Willow's skin, her thighs, all the while her head moving closer to Willow's sex, so close that she could smell the strong, intoxicating aroma that made her own loins clench out of sheer need.

When Tara had the g-string at Willow's knee, Willow stepped out of it herself. The fabric was flicked away on the end of her toe and quickly forgotten. Willow saw the hungry look in Tara's eyes and smirked, whipping her sex away from the reach of Tara's tongue which had been licking her lips in anticipation.

She moved her completely naked body in a slow dance, far enough away from Tara to give her room to move each limb to its fullest extent. With each new movement, Willow opened herself further to Tara's gaze, leaving nothing to the imagination, and nothing concealed. Her hands roamed over every inch of her body, she cupped her own breasts and teased the nipples as if they weren't already budded and rose red. Firm hands moved down over her stomach and to the apex of her thighs where she pressed the flat of her palm hard against her sex as though concealing it once more. However, she slid her fingers apart and with them, the folds of her mound. All the while she kept her eyes tightly locked with Tara's, her gaze as intimate as her movements.

The dance was so intimate that Tara felt as though her hands were already on Willow's body even though they were in actual fact clenched into fists as they rested on her thighs. Her breath was hot in her own ears to the point where she was sure she was panting with barely concealed desire. Willow's dance was the stuff of torture for someone who had been without intimate sexual contact for eight years. So as Willow moved closer, Tara once again unconsciously licked her lips.

Willow turned, displaying her completely bare arse blatantly. She backed up to the point where she was practically sitting on Tara's lap, her legs forcing Tara's apart. She then bucked her hips, moving further downwards until her bare flesh was rubbing against the towel that barely covered Tara's own skin. In fact, it began to bunch up significantly until her thighs were completely bare.

Tara growled as Willow's arse began to move between her thighs and her hips instinctively moved until she was grinding her sex against the smooth white flesh. She had to fight to keep her hands from reaching out to grab Willow's waist and pull her down firmly into her lap.

"Touch me," Willow commanded in a whisper.

Tara didn't need to be asked twice, her hands moved to carry out exactly what she had been dwelling on her mind. She drew Willow downwards as she bucked her hips insistently. With Willow firmly in her lap, Tara's hands roved up over her taut stomach muscles, feeling the smooth skin slide beneath her fingers before their tips touched her breasts. They closed eagerly over the firm mounds and squeezed, gently at first, then more insistently as Willow increased the pace of her hips moving against Tara's body.

Willow twisted her neck around until her mouth was pointing in the direction of Tara's. The ex-cops breath felt hot and fast on her cheek just seconds before she claimed her lips once again in another searing kiss. The awkwardness of their positions did not hamper the intensity of the kiss. Willow brought her hand up to clutch at Tara's cheek, feeling it sweaty beneath her touch.

Somehow, at some stage during the kiss, Willow managed to swing her leg over Tara's head as she swiveled to face Tara. They broke their kiss and their eyes met for brief moments, blue melting into green. The look ended when their lips magnetically closed together once more. Willow cupped Tara's cheeks with both her hands, exerting her own kind of dominance over the older woman. It was her hands that moved to the towel tucked securely between Tara's breasts and savagely yanked it open. The offending piece of white cloth was tossed aside and the blonde was naked beneath her bucking body. A smile crossed Willow's face at the sight of Tara's breasts heaving beneath her.

Tara hands cupped Willow's arse firmly as she moved on her lap. Their kiss continued and did not break even when Tara moved one hand to where Willow's thighs met, grasping urgently for her downy mound. She cupped it fiercely and Willow responded by bucking faster, a growl sounding from her throat that might have been a word. Tara didn't wait for any further words as she gently but firmly slide two fingers upwards into Willow's already soaking wet cunt. Willow's response was to grind her hips forward and bite down savagely on Tara's upper lip, catching it with her teeth.

As Willow ride Tara's pumping fingers, she eventually broke the kiss, her head tilting backwards so her unseeing eyes stared up at the patchy ceiling above her. Although she was acutely aware of Tara's fingers moving deeply inside of her, what consumed her thoughts was the fact that the moment she had dreamt about since Tara had purchased her freedom so violently eight years ago was finally becoming a reality. She felt hot tears burning at the corner of her eyes, they were streaming down her cheeks by the time she lowered her gaze to look Tara in the eye once more.

Seeing the tears, Tara did not stop as she might have done in the past. She knew exactly what they were for and had she not been so intently focused on the feel of her fingers in Willow's hot cunt, she might have found the will to cry her own. Instead she pressed her cheek against Willow's heaving chest and managed to croak out a few words that distinctly sounded like, 'I love you,' although even Tara couldn't been sure.

Just as Willow was beginning to make soft moans, Tara stopped her thrusts and gently withdrew her fingers. Before Willow had time to protest, she rose from the chair, lifting Willow along with barely a grunt of effort. Tara laid her roughly on the narrow bed before standing back slightly to admire the sight she had just created.

Willow bucked her hips insistently, feeling lost without the touch of Tara's skin, not to mention cheated out of a release she desperately wanted. "Stop fucking me with your eyes and get down here!"

Tara responded to Willow's command by throwing herself down, none too gently and biting her on the ear lobe. Willow yelped once and then once more seconds later as Tara had swiftly moved down her body to lower her face between Willow's legs. She yelped at the darting touch of Tara's tongue against her engorged clit. Although the second touch was a long, languid stroke that left her squirming and craving more. Tara was eager to oblige, lavishing attention on her clit in an exploratory, teasing manner as she became accustomed to Willow's body and tested out the tricks that really made her squirm. Tara found the spot and the speed easily following a particularly vocal cry of assent from Willow and she settled to it with all the determination and perseverance she possessed.

Willow tried to prop herself up on her elbows as she discovered she loved the sight of Tara working between her legs but that lasted all of a minute before her head was thrown back against the pillow behind her as she tossed about uncontrollably. Tara's tongue was driving her to the brink, easily threatening to push her right over the edge but with the skill to prolong release and take her beyond without falling off completely. Her hands clutched for something to grasp and she settled for fistfuls of Tara's hair. If she was hurting the blonde, it did not slow her down at all. If anything, her movements became more intense and focused. She knew exactly what Willow needed and her release followed moments later in a rushing crescendo of guttural moans and profanities that Willow would not remember even uttering afterwards,

Willow's hips jerked upwards several times with release before they settled back against the covers with the rest of her sweat soaked body. As Tara continued to stroke her stomach and thighs with tender fingers, she was all too aware of her throbbing cunt and the spread of wetness that chaffed against the back of her thighs.

As she lay on her back staring through half lidded eyes at the ceiling, she had visions of leaping upright and throwing Tara backwards where she would commence fucking her with the same intensity she had just received. However, as Tara's mouth trailed kisses up her body while she came to lay alongside Willow, those thoughts were replaced by a lazy picture of the two of them spending time stroking and exploring each others bodies. Tara nestled against Willow, folding the smaller woman into the protective shelter of her arms.

They lay in silence for a few moments before Willow opened her mouth to speak. It was only then that she realised Tara's soft and regular breathing indicated that she was asleep. She twisted her neck slightly to watch the blonde's face, discovering that when she slept she appeared at peace with the world in direct contrast to her waking state. Willow reached out with her fingers and brushed back a strand of wet hair, tucking it behind Tara's ear so she could study her face. So when she drifted off moments later, her dreams were filled with visions of a relaxed and happy Tara…in the midst of even more fucking.

* * *

Tara woke in darkness, instinctively knowing that the lump tucked beneath her arm was Willow. A small smile crossed her face as she contemplated remaining exactly where she was. The pleasant fuzz that clouded her brain brought a small smile to her face which broadened when she reached out to stroke Willow's naked flank. The redhead purred in her sleep, nestling closer to Tara.

As her eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds, Tara stared at Willow's face. In the milky light her skin was a translucent marble. Tara reached out to stroke it with the tips of her fingers, finding it warm and smooth. As she lay tracing Willow's delicate features, her fears assaulted the edge of her pleasant fuzz. They gradually eroded the abnormal feeling until Tara was left in her usual state of mind, alert, wary and edgy. These feelings were amplified tenfold by Willow's presence.

All too aware of her nakedness, Tara mentally berated herself for leaving her Berettas on the floor of the bathroom like a dirty pair of underwear. She managed to extract herself away from Willow's body without waking the redhead. It was only when her weight left the bed that she stirred half awake.

"Where are you going?" Willow whispered in a sleepy voice, her eyelids remaining closed.

Tara reached out to brush a clump of Willow's hair away from her forehead. "I'll be right back."

This seemed to satisfy Willow in her sleepy state and she smiled, reaching out to touch the hand that lay on her breast. "Hurry back to me."

"I will," Tara whispered, although she stopped short of saying _I promise_, as the few words out of her mouth had already contained more than enough lies.

Tara exited the Palace from a first floor window. She dropped silently to the ground and instantly melded into the darkness around her. As she walked away from the Palace and away from Willow, a calm settled about her. She pulled up the collar of her coat, secure in the knowledge that what she was about to do was the best course of action.

Evie's place in Sacred Oaks was a rather modest affair, especially when compared to the star's flamboyant personality. Tara punched in the security code at the entrance to the massive gates, knowing full well that Evie would not have changed it. It was the date they first had sex…which was also incidentally the date they first met. Tara couldn't explain why she would hold onto an anniversary long past, just that it was the sort of thing she would do. As she strode through the gates and bounded up to the front porch, she could feel the cameras on her. Evie or at least one of her bodyguards, was watching her approach. A suspicion confirmed when the front door clicked open as soon as her foot landed on the porch.

"Cruz," Tara inclined her head in greeting towards the shape that lay in wait for her as she entered, she recognized his bulk immediately. "I need to see Evie."

"Never one to stand on ceremony are you Maclay, nor are you possessed of a large supply of patience," Cruz intoned; his carefully cultured tone and measured words at odds with his appearance.

"You know me too well," Tara shrugged. "Is she busy?"

Cruz nodded solemnly but then inclined his head towards the stairs in an invitation for her to ascend. Tara smiled and bounded up two at a time, there was no time to stand on any sort of ceremony. Evie's room was at the top of the stairs, straight down the hall. Tara knew the route by heart, and as she entered without knocking she also recognized the familiar cloying scent that assaulted her nostrils. Sex…and lot's of it.

Tara made out a woman's body moving upright in the semi darkness but instantly knew it was not Evie. She smirked and lent against the doorjamb for a few moments, hearing Evie's moans from somewhere beneath the woman who pounded relentlessly above her. Tara reached out and flicked the light switch, not really caring that she was interrupting and watched as the woman gradually relaxed her pumping movements as she glanced over her shoulder to where Tara stood. She tossed her hair and gave a small snort of annoyance before lifting her hips away from Evie's body. As she rolled over onto the wide bed, Tara not only saw the large, glistening dildo she wore but also recognised her instantly. It was Mandy, one of the Ladies who had been present in the Palace when the body of the planted cop was found. Although she was certainly not interested in the olive skinned woman by any stretch of the imagination, she did note that she was just the type of exotic beauty that Evie creamed herself over. Mandy was not in any hurry to hide that beauty as she lowered herself back against the luxurious pillows at her back

"Leave us," Tara rumbled.

Mandy raised her eyebrows and glanced across at Evie, who had by now lifted herself on her elbows so she could face Tara.

Evie nodded without taking her eyes off her ex-lover, "Go take a shower, I'll join you later…and keep that cock strapped on."

With another snort, Mandy lifted herself from the bed and moved to the bathroom that adjoined Evie's bedroom. As she walked, swinging her hips in an exaggerated manner, she kept her dark eyes locked on Tara's in a silent challenge. She had obviously staked her claim on Evie. Tara continued to smirk; she had absolutely no desire to renew her passionate fling with the movie star.

As soon as the bathroom door closed shut, Evie lifted herself into a sitting position and patted the space on the bed beside her. She made no attempt to cover her naked body.

Tara shook her head. "This isn't a social call, Evie."

"Tara darling, I know things are over between us but do you really have to be so rude?" Evie replied indignantly.

"I need you to leave town," Tara interrupted harshly; she didn't have time for light-hearted conversation or any of Evie's manipulating games.

Evie was taken aback and remained silent for at least half a minute which was an eternity for the move star. Clearly Tara's request was out of the blue.

"I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't ask such a thing of me without good cause, Tara," Evie replied in a measured tone. "Why do you want me to leave, am I in danger?"

Evie couldn't help thinking about herself all the time; it was just the way she worked.

"Yes," Tara said curtly, her lips pursed tightly together, "But…."

Evie made a sound of dismissal, interrupting Tara before she could continue with the rest of her proposal. "You know full well I don't give a fuck about the game that Glory Talbot plays. She can't touch me and she knows it. Your concern is sweet but unnecessary, darling."

"I know you you're more than capable of taking care of yourself but I need you to do this for me," Tara had to force the words out, for some reason it did not come easily.

"Give me a reason," Evie urged, sensing Tara's reluctance to blurt it out.

"I need you to leave town," Tara repeated with a sudden catch to her voice. "I need you to leave town and take Willow with you."

It was then that Evie realised what had caused Tara's voice to catch like it had - the hardened ex-cop was on the verge of tears.


	11. You're Gonna Get Me Killed

**Chapter 11 **  
**You're Gonna Get Me Killed**

Even before her eyes had opened, Willow knew that Tara was not lying in the bed next to her. Although this had far more to do with the size of the bed than any internal sense she had about Tara's presence, she still felt Tara's absence keenly. Her small nose wrinkled as she distinctly remembered that Tara had promised to hurry back to her after attending to whatever it was that had dragged her away. Willow was justifiably disgruntled that anything had been important enough to pull Tara away from her naked body. While such thoughts toyed with her emotions, she felt a weight on the bed beside her. Willow rolled over to find Tara looking down at her. Tara's blonde hair partially obscured her somewhat ashen face. Willow also noted that she had once again donned her tank top and leather pants, the leather coat was tossed over the back of her computer chair nearby.

"Hey you," Tara whispered, speaking before Willow could ask the inevitable question.

The blonde did her best at a convincing smile which emerged genuine enough when faced with a sleep-tousled Willow. Her red hair fanned out on the pillow in a far from perfect manner and the sheet had travelled down her body to expose the creamy curve of her left breast. Tara watched Willow start to return the smile before it suddenly morphed into an angry frown.

"You fell asleep," Willow said accusingly, her frown deepening for a few moments before softening as though she had just realised she was looking at the woman she loved, she compensated with a stream of apologetic babble. "It's okay that you fell asleep because you were tired…people get tired, even you…although I wouldn't have thought it given how strong you are…not to mention really well built with nice muscles…"

Willow trailed off, rapt as she was in tracing Tara's arms from her shoulders down to her wrists. She paused at the sight of the bloodstains on Tara's top and suddenly sat up in her bed, the sheets falling away from her naked upper body and bunching around her hips. Her hands went to the base of the dirty garment and she began tugging upwards over Tara's lean stomach before Tara moved to try and stop her, catching a hold of both her wrists.

"Willow, I don't think it's the time for…" Tara's protest trailed off as the sight of Willow's body stirred fierce longings within her own body.

Willow's eyebrows rose in mock horror as she recognised the look. "You're the one that fell asleep last night, what makes you think you're going to get some hot gay lovin' now?"

"T-that…" Tara bit her lip at the painful sound of her own stammering and she finished quickly. "That wasn't on my mind."

Willow pouted, she looked down at her own body and then back up to Tara. "What do you mean it wasn't on your mind? I'm one hot mama, how can it possibly not be on your mind?"

A short, brief smile flashed across Tara's face before disappearing once again as her angst reclaimed her emotions. It was one of Willow's traits she loved the most, the ability to make her smile even when humour and happiness were farthest from her thoughts. Gently she reached out and cupped Willow's cheek, brushing it lightly with her thumb.

"I meant it shouldn't be on my mind," Tara spoke quietly. "But it always is."

Willow accepted Tara's explanation with a satisfied smile, secure in the knowledge of her sex appeal. She reached across Tara to the small chest of drawers beside her bed and flopped forward onto her stomach across Tara's lap as she strained to pull out a drawer. When she dragged herself back up a few moments later she pressed a white t-shirt into Tara's hands.

"And I was just trying to get you out of that filthy rag, the blood stains are repelling me and making me cringe," Willow's satisfied smirk grew a little broader. "You really need to start taking more care of your appearance."

Tara glanced down at the garment as if she hadn't noticed before peeling it off in one swift motion. Even as she moved to pull on the clean top in her hand, she was assaulted by a small body leaping into her lap and wrapping a pair of strong legs around her waist. All she saw was Willow's lips, slightly parted in anticipation as they moved towards her.

"Sorry," Willow whispered between feverish kisses. "Couldn't resist."

For a short moment, Tara was able to give herself over to those lips as she eagerly responded. Her hand moved to the exact spot she had coveted as soon as the sheet had revealed them…Willow's breasts. She kneaded the tender flesh hungrily, rubbing an erect nipple between her fingers as she readied it for her mouth. Breaking off the kiss, she bent to take the flesh into her mouth and Willow responded with a sudden display of strength.

The redhead shoved Tara backwards slightly to the left so her back fell against the pillows and she remained on top with her legs still wrapped around Tara's waist. Tara found herself looking up at a determined Willow. The white shirt slipped to the floor from Tara's outstretched hand as Willow caressed her exposed chest with both hands. Her hands went to clasp Willow's bare arse, holding the naked girl firmly as she thrust her leather clad hips instinctively upwards.

**I am aware of everything that's happening around me and yet at the same time I know nothing except the feel of Willow riding me like she means business. My leathers suddenly feel as though they're a foot thick, an unwanted barrier between my skin and hers. I am incapable of protesting as she wriggles backward in order to strip them away. I'm laid out, naked beneath her and I realise that I'm vulnerable in a way I swore I'd never be again. As she sucks in a mouthful of tit I give myself over to the sensations coursing through my body. My cunt is throbbing like a mother, crying out for much needed friction. I thrust upwardly desperately. **

**The part of me that's still aware of my surroundings can't stop thinking about the suitcase I've laid out on the floor. It's packed full of Willow's stuff for her trip out of Sin City with Evie. She's gonna hate me for doing this to her…and she damn well should. I need to stop her before things go too far. It's too late…her hand is groping between my legs, soft and yet urgent. Her finger flicks my clit and I'm so far gone that I almost come from that brief pressure. A whimper escapes my lips that I think may have been a plea for her to stop but the little minx silences me with a fierce kiss. Seconds later she pushes two fingers up inside me and my back arches instinctively. She's fucking me and there's no way I'm gonna tell her to stop now. With her fingers pumping and hips bucking my thighs wrap around her back to keep her as close as possible. It feels as though she's fucking me like she's never gonna see me again. In the early morning darkness I clutch at her sweaty body, consumed by both my guilt and my desire.**

Tara felt her fingers slip on Willow's sweat coated back so she embraced the bucking girl fully, wrapping her arms around that small but powerful body that was so intent on its one purpose. Willow's breath was loud and hoarse in her ear and her own came in between moans that she was trying her utmost to stifle. As Willow's fingers dove deep into her cunt, her palm worked against her clit. She had been on the edge of orgasm from the first thrust and it was only through some amount of willpower that she kept herself from falling over the edge, a desire to prolong the experience of Willow moving within her.

She wanted the intimate contact to last and yet Willow's movements were going to be her undoing. The redhead's move moved across every inch of her exposed upper body flesh, paying special attention to her already swollen nipples which she teased between her teeth and the fingers of her left hand. Tara gave up trying to restrain her release and thrust her hips insistently, both her hands moved to Willow's arse where her nails dug into the tender flesh. As Tara's breath grew short and urgent, Willow met her gaze directly, managing to hold it even as she continued to intensify the pace of her movements. The connection in their gaze was intense, with Willow focused while Tara struggled to keep her senses from flying apart. As she came, she squeezed her thighs hard against Willow and dug in nails in sharply in a vain effort to keep from crying out. A strangled gasp was all that emerged as her flesh contracted around Willow's fingers but it conveyed far more than the loudest scream.

Tara closed her eyes, allowing the thudding in her ears to gradually die down and she became aware of the moist pool between her legs, Willow's fingers still nestled in her passage and the layer of dripping sweat that coated her body. It could have been minutes or hours later that she felt Willow gently remove her fingers and settle contentedly into the contours of her body. Tara could swear she heard her purring.

"I vote we stay right here," Willow announced in a quite but emphatic voice. "Glory and her minions be damned!"

Tara couldn't think of anything she would rather do. Rather than reply, she concentrated on stroking the soft skin of Willow's flank as though she were etching its feel and texture into her mind. However, her lack of reply caused Willow to raise her head and study her face quizzically. She knew something was up when Tara awkwardly met her gaze.

"Okay, I was going for enthusiastic agreement with that one?" Willow asked cautiously, she paused as though thinking on what she had just said before continuing. "Although enthusiastic agreement coming from you would probably just be a nod of some sort, but I'm getting nothing here…not exactly bolstering a girl's ego, baby."

It was then that Willow happened to glance to the carpeted floor and she frowned at the fully stuffed suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor. It looked as though it had been packed by someone who had no idea what they were doing and had simply thrown everything in. She dragged herself into a sitting position and transferred her gaze from the suitcase to Tara.

"Okay, unless I've started walking in my sleep as well as talking, I don't think it was me that packed that suitcase…in fact, I'm pretty sure it wasn't me as I hate that blue shirt and even if I was sleep walking I'm sure I would have the good taste not to pack it," Willow narrowed her eyes at the t-shirt that lay on top in the open case. "Are we going somewhere?"

Tara peeled herself away from Willow's body and retrieved the white shirt from the floor where it had fallen from her hand. She pulled it on to find it somewhat tight but wearable and resumed her packing. Tara began randomly grabbing make-up and other toiletries from a stash atop Willow's chest of drawers as the redhead looked on in confusion.

"We're not going anywhere, Willow," Tara paused and drew a breath before she could bring herself to meet Willow's gaze directly. "You are."

* * *

All pairs of eyes in the lobby of the Palace followed Tara and Willow's rather impressive entrance. Tara came thumping down the stairs, a bulging suitcase held in one hand and a smaller vanity bag in the other. Willow was at her heels, clad only in a thin satin shift that barely covered the tops of her thighs. She made an attempt to wrestle the suitcase from Tara's hand but the blonde barely seemed to notice as her pace did not even slow, only a slight tensing of her arm muscles indicated that she was intent on retaining her hold on the case.

Willow obviously realized that she could not match Tara for physical strength and resorted to a barrage of words. She did not raise her voice but instead forcefully inquired what the hell was Tara doing and why had she packed a suitcase. She continued even as Tara seemingly remained oblivious to the noise in her ear.

"Tara Maclay, if you are even thinking of sending me away then I've got news for you, I am most certainly not going anywhere…and even if that's what you are thinking there's no way Faith will agree with you, she'll back me up because she knows how damn stubborn I am!" Willow glanced down to the lobby and picked out Faith from amongst the assembled onlookers. "Faith, tell her…tell that goddamn woman that I am not leaving the Palace!"

Tara reached the lobby and moved to stand next to Faith, Dawn and Buffy. Joining the small, select group of Ladies, including Mandy who was obviously on desk duty, was a circle of suited muscle men and a hooded female figure. Willow's eyes automatically drifted to the woman and as she drew down her hood the redhead's pretty featured morphed into a pissed off scowl.

In response, Evie Abernathy's gorgeous face was warm and her lips curled upwards into an approximation of a friendly smile. Given the informal situation, she was clad in a handsome crisp white pants suit beneath her coat. The jacket cut low to reveal more than an ample curve of her breasts. The flattering line of her pants ending in an elegant heeled sandal.

Despite the movie stars carefully groomed exterior, Willow tilted her head definitely and stood in a confident pose. Even as she continued to scowl she matched Evie for elegance and far outstripped her in terms of raw sex appeal. She was not softened by the friendly smile on the starlets face.

"Who the hell invited her?" Willow said as she stabbed an angry finger in Evie's direction.

Before Tara could own up as the architect of Willow's anger, Evie spoke in her trademark sultry tones, obviously intending to diffuse the situation. Tara was pleading with her eyes to get her to shut up instantly but Evie's gaze was directed at Willow.

"Tara just wants the best for you - in fact, she loves you so much it makes me want to throw up, not to mention arouse surges of jealously for an old flame I let go years ago…" Evie glanced to Tara to see the ex-cop giving her a look sharp enough to pierce her tough skin and she pursed her lips together for a moment before returning her gaze to Willow. "Just come with me okay kid? Whatever goes down here will be really bad, and you don't wanna be a part of that…Tara doesn't want you to be a part of that."

While some were anticipating the redhead to explode in a fiery temper, she remained composed. Her expression shifted from one of anger to disappointment, directed not at Evie but rather at her lover. She slowly turned to face Tara and spoke in a voice no louder than necessary,

"That's not for Tara to decide...and I'm not a fucking kid."

Tara did not respond, she met Willow's disappointment with a resolute expression. The tension in the air between the two lovers was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Both were stubborn women who had opposing points of view, and would brook no argument. It would have been a stalemate if not for the fact that Tara had supporters where Willow had none.

"Will, we'll deal to Glory," Faith added. "We'll deal to her for you, Tara and all the Ladies she's oppressed over the years…she's going down in flames mark my words…but you don't need to be a part of it."

Willow's jaw hardened. "What about Dawn? She's younger than I am and even less adept with a weapon!"

Dawn scoffed in outrage but she was effectively silenced by a stern glance from Buffy. She folded her arms somewhat petulantly but did not speak. It was left to Faith to explain that Dawn was also leaving with Evie.

"That woman can take Dawn. I am staying," Willow decided firmly, squaring her small shoulders in preparation for the ensuing argument.

Tara was acutely aware of the fact that it was her place to speak, to convince Willow that leaving her friends and her lover at this turbulent time was the best course of action. She had to admit that Evie had already spelt out the situation plainly. Tara would do everything in her power to keep Willow out of what was sure to be one of Old Town's bloodiest and most brutal battles. She knew that she would have to have all her wits about her just to stay alive. While this was the plain, honest truth, she could not explain it to Willow.

In the face of Tara's seemingly stony silence, Willow fronted up to her. The redhead stabbed an angry finger in the middle of Tara's chest with so much force that it knocked her off balance.

"It's not your place to tell me what I can and can't do, Tara," Willow growled. "You may think I'm going to get in your way-"

"You **are** going to get in my way," Tara finally spoke and her voice rang with a quiet authority that stopped Willow mid-sentence. "There's work here that needs to be done…terrible, dirty work that people like you have no business getting involved in. You're a genuinely good person Willow, whereas I'm not. This is my sort of work and I can't do it if you're with me…you'll get me killed."

Willow stood staring in mild shock, her lips parted. She was struck silent by the force of Tara's words and any argument she might have made seemed silly in the face of Tara's last statement.

"I don't think you understand," Willow whispered, on the verge of tears. "I have to be with you."

Tara ducked her head, hair falling forward over her face. Her fists clenching at her side betrayed that she was angry, but it was not clear whether she was angry at Willow, herself, or just the world in general.

"There isn't the time for this," Faith growled, ever the pragmatist who was immune to pleadings and romanticism, "Buffy, if you would be so good as to escort Willow out to Evie's car."

Buffy's idea of 'escorting' Willow was to pick the still protesting redhead up and toss her over her shoulder like a boisterous sack of potatoes. Obviously the move did not appeal to Willow and she struggled futilely against the silent blonde's grasp. The movement did not appear to trouble Buffy in the slightest and she carried Willow effortlessly out the front door and down to the waiting car. Evie and her burly entourage followed after the starlet shared one more passionate kiss with her Lady lover, Mandy. A rather petulant but subdued Dawn was lead out by Faith close behind them.

**I stand unmoving in the Palace's lobby. I want to run out there and stop Buffy from forcing Willow into the car but I'm trapped by my own inhibitions and a strong sense of the righteousness of my actions. Willow was right in saying this wasn't my decision to make but she would never have chosen this for herself…she's far too stubborn and she loves me too much. I love her more, which is why I'm doing this to her.**

**I have to say goodbye. I know she doesn't want to hear it but I want to face Glory with nothing but Willow in my mind. Even as my feet are moving I see the car pull away. I can see nothing through the darkly tinted windows but I know she's watching me as I run into the middle of the road and stare at the car as it draws away. Faith moves to my side to offer some sort of support but I tell her to fuck off. **

**Now Willow's gone I can turn my attention purely to spilling blood…Talbot blood…and lots of it.**

* * *

The night felt wrong. Tara stood at the window, a silent figure watching the dead outside world. It was made all the more wrong by the fact that Willow was gone. It had been less than four hours and already she felt the gaping hole in her existence. There was no irrelevant but irresistible babble and no firm body to draw into her arms. So Tara had stood staring into the darkness, unable to even think about sleeping.

Movement caught her eye. A lone figure staggered down Mainstreet making slow process towards the Palace. Tara watched until she could see the figure more clearly. She knew exactly who it was without seeing the bloody katana being dragged along the road…the fact that the weapon was being dragged at all sent a chill through Tara's body. Moments later, she saw a figure dash from the Palace's front door below her. It was Faith. She ran straight for Buffy. Tara felt the world move in on her, something had gone very wrong. Something had happened to Willow…

Tara wasn't aware of how she made her way down to the street below where she had watched the scene begin to unfold. She was walking towards the two figures huddled in the middle of the road, shadows creeping in from all edges of her vision.

Faith cradled her dying friend's head in her lap, stroking blood soaked hair out of her face. Tears ran unchecked down her normally stony visage. Buffy's normally pristine black garb was torn into rags that hung from her body, revealing the nature of her hideous injuries. Her skin was gashed open in several places and one arm hung uselessly from her shoulder, the bone protruding from her elbow. Buffy coughed and blood bubbled forth from her lips, blood was pooling out from beneath her body. Faith wiped away the blood running down her chin with her shirt.

Tara stood over the two women and Faith glanced up once before returning her attention to the fatally wounded blonde.

"I think our carefully thought out plan has been shot to hell, T" Faith choked backed tears, unconcerned at her loss of control in front of Tara. "Those goddamn rat bastards…and that fucking whore Glory! I'm going to gut her like a pig!"

"She'll pay," Tara replied blandly, too many thoughts were racing through her mind for her to concentrate on words.

Blood continued to bubble forth from Buffy's lips as she attempted to speak. It was clearly a great effort for the blonde but there was obviously something that had to be said as she lay dying in the middle of the street. Eventually just one word came forth in a strangled whisper – _Mandy._

Buffy's eyes lingered on Faith's as she gave one final shudder and she died. There was no sudden outpouring of grief from Faith, she simply laid Buffy's body gently on the ground as she eased herself out from beneath her. She then stood and marched determinedly back towards the Palace. Tara glanced down at the dead woman before back up at Faith's retreating back. She felt nothing but cold, whatever it was that Faith was about to do to Mandy, she wasn't about to get in the way. Her only concern was discovering Willow's fate.

When Tara re-entered the Palace, Faith was at the centre of a cluster of ladies. She crouched down beside an unmoving form lying on her back. Tara moved closer to see Mandy's face was a bloody mess, her nose having been broken with one swing of Faith's powerful fists. Faith's face was scarlet with rage as she held Mandy by the scruff of her shirt. The bloodied woman showed her strength as a Lady by holding her leader's gaze steadily.

Tara wasn't in the mood for a drawn out interrogation, her method would have been to plant one of her Berettas at Mandy's temple and count to three…pure and simple. Faith was all about her fists, she slapped Mandy over the head, sending a shower of blood to the floor.

"Stop lying," Faith growled in response to a denial that Tara had missed hearing, "Your name was the last word from Buffy's lips, and I trusted her more than life itself…if Buffy says you're responsible for this then that's the truth of it! The only way you can save yourself is by telling me exactly what you told them…or I'll smash your brains into the floor."

Mandy's bottom lip quivered at the ferocity of Faith's words, she also sent a fearful glance in Tara's direction. The ex-cop stood with her hands at her side in a seemingly relaxed pose but in actual face every inch of her body was tensed to breaking point, her expression must have reflected this as Mandy's eyes widened a little.

"I only told them the route and the time…that's all, I swear," Mandy replied feverishly.

"Only?" Faith growled, clearly unimpressed, "I would have thought that information would have been more than sufficient to put the lives of our friends in danger…more than sufficient!"

"Not all of us want to die for her!" Mandy lifted herself from the ground slightly and stabbed an angry finger in Tara's direction.

"So you gave Willow to them to save yourself? And Dawn?" Faith growled, clearly unimpressed, "As well as Evie…was she nothing more to you than a fuck?"

"No one is going to die!" Mandy protested, "She swore that no one would die…no one except Maclay and I don't give a shit about her."

"Buffy died," Faith replied quickly in a low tone that indicated just how sore she was about the death.

"I'm sorry, Faith." Mandy whispered, "I didn't know you'd tagged Buffy to trail their cars…if I had of known…"

"You'd have done the same thing because you've clearly shown that self-preservation is more important than loyalty and your family!"

"She swore to me…" Mandy's voice trailed off.

"You stupid little shit," Faith spat, her voice dripping with fury. "This is Glory Talbot we're talking about here, the queen of snakes and liars and all manner of scum, how did you ever think you could trust someone like that to keep her word…Evie's dead…Willow's dead, and you killed them!"

**I stand, a silent presence listening to their conversation. I know exactly what's happened and I swear I'll kill that blabber-mouthed movie star myself if she isn't dead already. I watch as Faith draws her piece and plugs the traitor without a moment's hesitation. There's a startled expression on Mandy's face and an almost neat hole in the centre of her forehead. I don't agree with what Mandy did, ratting out your family is an instant death sentence in Old Town, but I know exactly why she did it. **

**I wouldn't die for myself either. **

**Grim work done, Faith stands and turns to me. There's nothing more to be done here and she knows what's going through my mind. Together we turn and run for the Oldsmobile sitting outside. My whole body feels like ice as I move, trying not to dwell on thoughts of what we might find. Despite the fact that Faith seems to believe Willow dead, I know she's not. Not only do I feel it…I know full well that bitch Glory has her and she's waiting for me.**


	12. Into the Fire

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter everyone. I've just moved from New Zealand to England so have been in a process of transition and upheaval! Things will be a little slow while I get myself settled (more so with my other fics).**  
**

**Chapter 12 **  
**Into the Fire**

Tara's foot slammed heavily on the pavement as she emerged from the car, as though she needed to remind herself that she was actually awake and not walking into her worst nightmare. She didn't close the door behind her as she moved away from the Oldsmobile and towards the two stationary vehicles in the middle of the road. She studied the scene laid out before her and saw violence everywhere. At her feet were bodies missing hands, arms…and heads, and she knew that Buffy had been at work here. Her boots crunched on shattered glass, spent shells. Sprays of red blood covered the pavement in dreadfully beautiful patterns. For someone who was both an ex-cop and an ex-con, it should have been relatively easy to stomach. However, the thought of Willow at the heart of it all made Tara sick to her stomach. She saw the violence through the eyes of someone unused to such careless disregard for human life. Tara staggered closer to the cars, moving in an awkward gait as she stepped over and around bodies.

As she approached Evie's Jag her heart pounded against her chest, the solid vehicle looked as though it had been torn open with a can opener. She saw a slender body in what was once a pristine white suit propped up against the rear wheel. Tara scrambled across the last few metres that separated her from Evie and fell to her knees beside her ex-lover. Blood had seeped outwards from several bullet holes in the movie star's body, ruining her suit and leaving her near death. The corners of her lips curled upwards into an approximation of a smile when her gaze fell on Tara.

"Sorry, Tara," her voice was cracked and barely audible. "It was a good plan."

"And I can't thank you enough for agreeing to it in the first place," Tara stared into Evie's glazed eyes. "You're a brave woman."

"I had to be to date you!" Evie scoffed, wincing in pain with the effort of speaking but she knew exactly what Tara wanted to hear most of all. "They took your girl."

"Willow," Tara breathed, her teeth clenching and grinding in rage.

Tara heard footsteps fall behind her but did not look over her shoulder as she knew it was Faith. The brunette placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing firmly once in reassurance.

"They've long since cleared out, there's no one else here," Faith reported in a tone of disappointment as though she had wanted to find someone she could beat to a pulp. "No one alive anyway."

"It was a mess," Evie recalled, her breathing harsh and laboured. "There were so many of them-"

"Evie-" Tara began to silence Evie for her own good even though she knew there was nothing she could do to save her life.

"Don't you dare try and shut me up, Maclay," Evie was just as strong willed as ever. "There were dozens of them…they must have known I had my boys with me….it went on forever, smoke and bullets flying, so much noise…Willow and Dawn were so calm, terrified, but calm…she's an incredible young woman, Tara, I'm happy for you…"

"Dawn's gone too," Faith added as Evie trailed off.

Evie held Tara's gaze, her vision seeming to clear for a moment only to fog again but this time it was with unshed tears. Tears for an old lover, for the past, and for a future that she would never see. Tara reached out and picked up Evie's limp, bloody hand and held it tenderly, it was all she could do.

"They took Willow and Dawn…that little woman died trying to defend them, she came out of nowhere."

"Buffy," Faith added in a heavy tone.

"Buffy…she's a serious piece of work," Evie wheezed. "Carved her way through every guy they sent against us, even after Cruz and his boys were dead….it wasn't until that white-haired bastard showed up…"

"Him I'm familiar with," Tara replied in a low voice. "You really shouldn't speak…save your strength."

Evie let out a macabre chuckle. "Ha, I'm done for babydoll and you know it…never was one to shut up though, perfect really…because you never said anything…the whole time we were dating, it was like being with a stone wall at times…"

"I'm sorry," Tara mumbled, although there was absolutely nothing she could have done to change the way she was and they both knew it.

"Don't be…" Evie let out a racking cough that shook her already weak frame, blood bubbled from her lips and flowed freely down her chin. "Conversation…was always never on my mind when I was with you…"

Tara smiled for Evie's benefit, gently caressing the skin of her hand with her thumb as her body sagged further and her eyes glazed over once again.

"Never did stop loving you…"

"Bullshit," Tara whispered quietly, drawing a strand of blood soaked hair away from Evie's face.

"I'm fucking dying, Tara…it's what I'm supposed to say…"

With the last quip still on her lips, Evie let out one last weak breath and her eyes slid closed, her hand slipping from Tara's grasp. Tara bowed her head as though she was offering up a prayer when in actual fact she was struggling to keep from screaming aloud at the top of her lungs. All her rage, her anger and burdening sense of injustice seethed beneath the surface of her skin, straining to be released. It took all her strength to contain it, harness it until it was time to unleash it on those who had done this.

When she eventually rose to her feet her expression betrayed nothing except a steely calm. Faith moved to stand at her side.

"They've got Willow and Dawn" the brunette stated the obvious.

From the ashen expression on Tara's face, Faith realised it didn't need restating. It was foremost on Tara's mind.

"Yes," Tara growled. "At least I know exactly where she is."

Faith nodded. "The Talbot mansion. You know they'll be expecting you, Maclay."

Tara turned to face Faith. "I wouldn't have it any other way, I want them to know exactly who it is standing in front of them when they die, Glory and that blond bastard especially…my smiling face will be the last thing they see."

* * *

Willow's eyes opened to meet nothing but darkness. Her head searched frantically but her eyes fell on nothing that showed the slightest glimmer of light of any kind, there was just an endless sea of black. She could have been a room that stretched for eternity, or one where the walls were closing in on her. Willow squeezed her eyes shut once more and forced herself to draw shallow, even breaths to calm herself. As her heart's thudding slowed gradually, she gathered in a sense of her surroundings. Her wrists were tied above her head at a height that made it almost impossible for her to stand flat footed on the ground, her shoulders were already screaming in agony at the unnatural position they were forced to assume.

Dozens of emotions surged through her body. There was pain of course, not only from her position but from blows that she had received during her journey and the searing one to her cheek which she knew had knocked her unconscious. Someone had removed the thick woollen coat she'd donned in Evie's car and she was left clad in the same satin nightgown she'd worn marching down the stairs after Tara at the Palace. Willow was freezing and she was terrified, as terrified as she'd been when their small convoy had been ambushed by dozens of armed men, their guns spitting fire and death in all directions.

The road had been blocked by a fiery obstacle, forcing the convoy to halt and lie almost defenceless in the face of an ambush. Willow had watched as the bodyguards, seemingly tough and invulnerable men, had been torn to pieces by a hail of bullets as soon as they stepped out of their vehicles. Those who had managed to squeeze off a few rounds did so as a final act before they too joined their comrades in pools of blood.

From being frozen for those first few moments, Willow had been jolted into action as a bullet slammed into the bullet-resistant glass just beside her head. She threw herself over Dawn's trembling body even as the cacophony continued to sound in her ears. As her breath came in gasps into Dawn's hair, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for her world to end in the searing heat of an explosion. As the seconds wore on a more rational state of mind returned and she realised that she would probably not be destined to die on this dark street.

This was all about Tara, and as such they were here for her…all these strangers were dying for her. Willow raised her head and saw Evie Abernathy, once Tara's lover, looking down at her with an ashen face. Willow could tell she didn't want to die but there was no trace of accusation in her eyes.

At that point, Evie slid a slim, deadly looking gun from a bejewelled holster at her hip. She swiftly cocked the weapon even as she delivered a tight-lipped smile in Willow's direction.

"Stay in the car kid, don't want you getting caught in the cross fire, you'll be safe here…" Evie's words trailed off, the actress failed to even convince herself with her lies.

Willow stared incredulously at the movie star, hardly looking the part of gun-toting saviour despite her weapon and confident pose. Clad in her white pants suit she was, as always, the epitome of sophistication and sensual perfection. She opened the door and her lithe leg emerged, she planted her heel firmly in a pool of blood.

Faced only with a view of her back, Willow could not see the look on Evie's face when the first of three bullets hit her. She could count them because she jerked violently with each one that slammed into her frame. Evie then slumped to the ground motionless without ever having fired a shot. Willow watched through the open door as figures emerged from the shadows, evil men with their weapons trained on the two young women huddled in the rear seat. Despite the proximity of the advancing thugs, Willow's gaze was drawn back into the shadows behind them. In the gloom she picked out the shape of a tall man clad in a billowing coat, his profile lit faintly by the hot red glow of his cigarette. He took a step forward and Willow instantly knew that she was staring at true evil, far more so than the hired thugs who were stretching eager hands into the car to claim their prize. It was the peroxided man who had spoken to her in the back alley at Kitty's. Although there Tara was just metres away to step in…here she had no one.

Willow shrank away from the closest fingers but even as they moved to close on her forearm, the body they were attached to was suddenly headless. The body fell, revealing Buffy posed with her bloody katana in a post strike stance. The petite blonde met Willow's eyes for a scant moment before whirling to dismember a second thug before he knew who or what he was up against.

Dawn looked up sharply in time to see Buffy move in a blur and out of the path of a hail of bullets that were centred on her previous location. Willow immediately felt the girl's body relax as though she knew they would be safe with the arrival of the petite blonde assassin. Through her limited view, framed by the open car door, Willow saw glimpses of Buffy as she carved a bloody path through her attackers. The air around her was thick with gushing blood as she carved off limb after limb.

Willow too felt that their ordeal would shortly be over and she would be able to give Tara a piece of her mind regarding their enforced separation. There were many things she wanted to say to the blonde, most of them would be words fuelled by anger and she was determined to make them as ugly as possible…before they engaged in an enthusiastic bout of make-up sex.

However, as the thugs stopped falling onto Buffy's blade, the coat-clad stranger took his position on the chopping block as though he too were eager to die. Even as Buffy moved to strike him down, Willow could see that this was no clear cut contest. He dodged Buffy's blade in an apparently effortless move, distracting her with the swirl of his leather coat which hindered her movements as it disguised his own. If she were surprised by her initial failure, the deadly little assassin did not show it, she kept up a relentless barrage of attacks as they danced across the ground, moving in and out of Willow and Dawn's line of sight.

"We'll be okay right, Willow?" Dawn's urgent voice sounded from beneath her. "Buffy can beat this guy can't she?"

"Yeah, of course Dawnie," Willow replied in what she hoped was a fervent voice, "Buffy's never lost to anyone."

There was a violent thud and the stationary car rocked on its wheels, followed by a second that was much more discreet chasing the first. Willow glanced up at the cars roof even though she could see nothing through the thick exterior. In that impossibly small space, the two combatants danced as though they were on a football field. Willow and Dawn listened to the sounds of combat, hearing manly grunts punctuated by further thuds and the deadly whistle of Buffy's katana as it sliced through the air. It was the only sound that came from the assassin and her footfalls barely made a sound on the metal as she moved.

While both girls lay in wait, hoping to see a peroxided head fly through the air, the sound that chilled them to the bone was that of a female's voice crying out in pain not once, but twice.

Willow's eyes were wide with fear as the scuffling above them ceased. A thin trickle of blood began running from the lip above the open car down from where it had gathered on the roof. She watched with a fascinated horror as the life liquid continued to flow, even as she was watching she saw something fly through the dark air to land several metres away from the car in a mangled heap. Willow saw a flash of blonde hair and the glint of shining metal as Buffy's own katana protruded from her back. She lay motionless on the ground.

"Buffy," Dawn whispered in a strangled gasp even as Willow's fingers closed over her eyes in an effort to keep the sight from her.

Dawn wrenched Willow's hand away and then struggled violently to be set free from her weight which lay atop her body. Willow struggled to keep her in the car but the young woman was hell bent on getting out and reaching the side of her fallen sister.

"Dawnie, no!" Willow was forced to watch as she fell out the car door and struggled awkwardly to her feet.

She watched in horror, expecting to see bullets slamming into the girl seconds after her exit from the car. However, none were forthcoming and Dawn fell in a heap at Buffy's side. No sooner had she done so though, black suited men were surrounding her and dragging her to her feet.

"That's not the bird we're here for," Willow heard a voice above her speak in a gruff tone. "We want the redheaded one."

"She's in the car!" someone yelled.

Willow's heart raced, she hardly expected to be able to remain hidden in the car but to know they were coming for her and to be powerless to do anything about it was something else altogether. She frantically searched for a weapon, anything to use rather than just let herself be dragged away like some defenceless child…like she had been eight years ago. In the front seat, still lying in the hand of the dead driver, was a pistol. Willow darted forward and snatched it up, fear rendering her oblivious to its blood smeared grip as she held it in her shaking hand.

A sneering face appeared in the doorway, an expression wiped a few moments later when faced with the cold, merciless barrel of a pistol. Even though it was it the hands of a young woman who was shaking with fear at the thought of pulling the trigger, it was a force to be reckoned with. The thug hadn't the time to back out of the car, in a surge of emotion and adrenaline, Willow pulled the trigger.

A single click emitted from the weapon. In frustration, Willow pulled the trigger repeatedly but her attacker grinned at his luck and crawled forward to drag her kicking and screaming from the car. She was hauled out and dragged unceremoniously to her feet in front of the man who had just dispatched Buffy as though it were child's play. Although determined to defiant no matter what, Willow felt weak and helpless in his presence.

"What'll we do about the spare, boss?" a surviving thug shoved a terrified Dawn forward, still sobbing over her sister's death.

Willow had glanced to the girl and then back to Spike with an urgent look on her face as she demanded, "She stays with me!"

Spike's gaze travelled across to Willow's and she did her best to hold it, despite the piercing stare. She saw a cold, calculating presence behind his eyes, one completely devoid of compassion and immune to pleadings. Willow lifted her chin defiantly, daring him to challenge her…despite the fact that she held no cards whatsoever. He finished searching Willow's face, leaving her feeling dirty and crawling before nodding to the man that held Dawn. Willow was able to breathe some small sigh of relief as they were both moved towards waiting cars. As much as she wanted to be able to reassure Dawn, no words would come.

It was now, after the violence of her kidnapping, that Willow found herself in darkness and in pain. Despite the appalling nature of her current circumstances, Willow sensed whatever happened next would quite probably be worse. She was almost content to leave her eyes shut and loose herself in thoughts of being somewhere else.

The door opened with calculated violence, slamming against the wall behind it with a ferocity that sent tremors through the chains that held Willow's hands. Her eyes opened and she had to squint at the bright light that surged through the door. As her vision gradually returned, a figure emerged at the centre of the searing light.

"Little Willow Rosenberg," the figure's voice drawled lazily, confidently.

The voice was exactly the same, just as everything else about him had changed over the preceding eight years. Willow remembered a femininely handsome face, although it had seemed terribly wicked even to a small girl. His body had been trim in a well-tailored suit with his grip possessing a vice-like quality.

"Tommy Talbot," Willow whispered, instantly feeling twelve years old once more.

She could see him in perfect clarity now as her eyes adjusted to the light. The first thing Willow noticed was his gait, a crab-legged scuffle with knees at odd angles. One bony hand gripped a black walking stick which shook as he leaned heavily upon it. Tommy saw the direction of her gaze and his saggy, hollow face twisted into a cruel smile that was anything but friendly.

"I have your friend, Detective Maclay, to thank for my ill-favoured appearance…starting with my legs which she cruelly crippled, leaving me to waste away to a pathetic approximation of my former self."

Willow noticed that he had literally wasted away. His suit appeared to hang from a skeleton rather than a still living and breathing man. The thin, lank hair that hung from his head was nothing like the dark, lustrous locks that Willow remembered so vividly. However, as his body had wasted, his arrogance and cruelty had been bolstered and magnified, it was etched into every crease of his face.

"Well I'm sorry she didn't put you out of your misery," Willow tried to manage a rough growl but her voice emerged as a frightened squeak. "She'll be back to finish the job."

Tommy laughed and Willow didn't blame him, her threats sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

"I'm counting on just that…I've got a little surprise waiting for Maclay, a visit from an old friend that I think she's going to enjoy very much," Tommy pursed his lips together thoughtfully as he looked Willow up and down, he nodded as though reassuring himself of some important fact, when he resumed speaking his voice had taken on a petulant, high pitched whine. "While we're waiting for her to arrive, I don't see why there's any reason we shouldn't finish what I set about to do eight years ago…a right that was mine, and that fuckin' bitch stole it away from me!"

Willow almost gagged. Tremors of revulsion shook her frozen frame as she recognised that look in Talbot's eyes. A wave of nausea took hold of her at the thought of that perverted freak touching any part of her body. Talbot watched her conspicuous reaction with immense satisfaction, feeding off the fear she emanated from every pore of her body.

"And I'm going to take back those eight years she stole from me out of your flesh…she robbed me of my prize and now I'm left with you…old and disgusting…you're the one that's going to pay for what she stole, and it'll be just as good!" he squealed, his excitement rising with each word.

With a superhuman display of courage, Willow forced her fear back inside her body rather than let it erupt in a display of abject misery and uncontrollable sobbing that she knew Tommy would feed from greedily. She forced herself to remain calm in the face of his obvious excitement.

"Whatever you want from me Tommy, you're not going to get it," Willow swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. "So you can just keep your foul hand to yourself or I'll rip them off with my teeth!"

He threw back his head, revealing his scrawny chicken-like neck, and cackled loudly for some moments. Willow watched him through narrowed eyes, wishing fervently that Tara would appear behind him and snap his neck like a twig. However, her lover was nowhere near her at that point in time and she was alone with the monster in front of her. She channelled her fear into anger and hate, despising the man thoroughly. When he had ceased laughing and wiped away the tears that had trickled from his eyes, he found himself looking at a girl whose gaze spelt out her hate in vivid detail.

Tommy snorted, somewhat ruffled that Willow had not been reduced to a quivering wreck. He attempted to straighten his crooked frame to appear even more menacing.

"I'm going to want you to dance for me," he announced.

"Like hell I will," Willow replied, this time her voice did emerge as a growl, angry and firm. "You take these chains off me and I'm going straight for your scrawny little throat!"

Tommy cackled again, "Brave words from a little girl…but I think you'll find we have just the right incentive to change your mind."

He gestured with an inclination of his head and Willow watched with a sinking feeling as Dawn was dragged into the room, kicking out with her heels the entire time. She managed to jab one hell into the toe of the man holding her and he grunted loudly. He responded by whipping a knife from his boot and grabbing her in a headlock, the knife went to her throat.

"Dawnie!" Willow hissed urgently, she jerked her gaze from the defiant girl back to Tommy. "Don't you dare hurt her you…you…"

He lunged forward and made a silencing sound deep in his throat. "That's quite enough from you little Willow Rosenberg, I'll make this nice and simple for you so it's real easy…you don't dance for me, and I start carving up your little friend here…piece by piece…Lenny, I believe a demonstration is in order…"

The thug holding Dawn grinned as though Christmas had come early. He shoved Dawn to the ground and held her wrist to the ground, with one vicious downward slice of his knife, he sliced her little finger off just above the knuckle. The scream that followed seared right through Willow's soul and she squeezed her eyes shut as though that would make the heart-wrenching sound stop.

Her chin suddenly felt as though it were caught in a vice. When she tried to wrench it away, the grip only tightened.

"Open your eyes!" it was Talbot's shrieking voice, Willow tried again to twist away from him but he forced her to stay put. "Open your eyes and look at what you've done!"

Willow opened her eyes, at first no more than a mere slit through which she saw only blood. Her eyes fully open, she met Dawn's anguished gaze as she clutched her bloody hand to her breast.

"Don't do anything, Willow," Dawn hissed through gritted teeth, pain choking her voice.

"Continue the demonstration please, Lenny," Talbot was clearly enjoying himself.

"No!" Willow heard herself yell, twisting her body urgently as though she suddenly thought she could wrench herself free from her bonds. "Leave her alone! I'll dance for you goddammit, I'll dance!"

Tommy Talbot's face lit up, "Excellent…Lenny, we need to find our little stripper here a stage on which to do her work…and it better be good, or else the little lady here will have trouble using a knife and a fork tomorrow."

* * *

For once in her life, Faith was at a loss as to what to do. She knew exactly what she would do under any normal circumstances. She would gather together her Ladies and they would take justice straight to the Talbot clan…of course, many Ladies would be killed but that was the way it ran in Old Town. The Talbot's couldn't do this without expecting major retribution of the bloody and violent kind. However, this particular situation was thrown upside down by the fact that Tara was in charge, this was her party and Faith was just a guest.

And if Tara chose to party alone…

"You're planning on going in there alone aren't you," Faith narrowed her eyes as she cornered Tara in the supply room.

"Of course not," Tara replied much too smoothly as she slammed another shell into the shotgun in her hands.

The weapon fully loaded, she tested its weight and grunted with satisfaction. She threw it over her shoulder and picked up the bag at her feet which was already packed full and straining at its fastenings. Faith stared after Tara with narrow eyes as the ex-cop turned and exited the room without a further word. She grunted and followed the blonde.

"You won't get further than the boundary fence alone, Glory's goons will riddle you with bullets and her dogs will tear your bloody carcass to pieces" Faith cautioned vividly. "And besides the fact that you're a grumpy bitch who's fucking a girl I think of as my little sister I would hate for your story to end like that…not to mention Willow's story. She's counting on you to get her out of this…not get yourself killed."

Tara glanced back at Faith over her should as she paused at the top of the stairs, with a slight grunt she continued on her way. Faith followed once more, feeling as though she was trying to draw blood from a stone. She reached out and grabbed Tara's upper arm to halt her walk.

Tara turned glared at Faith, her trigger finger twitching above the shotgun's trigger.

"What do you want from me?" Tara demanded. "Because right now you're just slowing me down."

"I want you to stop and think about what you're doing for at least a second!" Faith growled

The bag in Tara's hand dropped to the ground and landed with a thud, the shotgun left her shoulder so it was pointed at the ground.

"All I can think about is Willow in the hands of that family!" Tara replied, her voice threatening to break. "I can't wait around for you to gather your troops, to plan, to choose our weapons…I'm going in now."

"I'll come with you!" Faith insisted.

"You know as well as I do that Glory wants me…if I go in there with a pack of Ladies armed to the teeth, all guns blazing, she'll kill Willow and Dawn without a qualm…I can't let that happen," Tara said firmly, her fingers clenched around the shotgun in her hand. "Even if things turn to shit I can count on the fact that she'll let them go if she has me."

"This is Glory we're talking about…"

"I know, I can't guarantee anything," Tara sighed, retrieving her fallen bag. "But you can promise me one thing…when…if I get Willow out, and Dawn, you'll get them out of town?"

"Of course," Faith replied quickly, mesmerised by the heartfelt expression on Tara's face. "But you still don't have to do this alone…"

Her bag back in her hands and the shotgun over her shoulder, Tara continued walking. Faith felt compelled to follow but couldn't say whether or not Tara would pull the shotgun on her.

"Yes I do," Tara stared straight ahead.

"Why? It's suicide you crazy bitch!"

Tara paused for a moment and replied, "Because I am always going to be alone without her."


	13. Puppy Dogs and Berettas

**Chapter 13 **  
**Puppy Dogs and Berettas  
**

**Faith was wrong. The Dame's tough, there's no doubt about that. However as I drop soundlessly into Glory Talbot's backyard I know that she underestimated what I'm capable of. My boots hit the dirt. I lay down my bag of goodies and a split second later I dive into a roll to come up a mere foot from the closest guard. My hands grasp his head and, before he has even felt my touch, I snap his neck. Even as he falls to the ground I snatch his knife from his vest and fling it into the face of his buddy standing on the other side of a carefully manicured rose garden. With a slight gurgle he goes down in slow motion. **

**Yes, Faith was wrong. Two men dead in as many seconds and I'm not even warmed up yet. **

**The night is pitch black, not a trace of a moon. ****I pause for a few seconds and smell the roses so to speak - along with fresh cut grass and rich, dark soil. For a city cop so used to gutters and garbage cans it's like a foreign country. It's all too perfect to be real and further ruined by the fact that I know monsters live here. The whole scene is**** eerily still with a hint of moisture in the air and that sense of foreboding that lingers in the air before a thunderstorm. Conditions perfect for the foul things I have to do tonight. There's killing to be done…a lot of it. I don't have time to dwell on it but I know by the time dawn breaks and sheds light on this evil world my hands will be stained with blood.**

Tara retrieved her bag in a firm grip and continued towards the house. A shotgun was held firmly in her other hand even though she knew she dared not fire it at this point. One single blast would alert the entire household to her presence. In the shadows ahead she heard the low throated growl of an animal and she froze, remembering Faith's warnings about t the guard dogs.

**There's a mutt in front of me, one of those great big things people tend to breed for the purpose of ripping other people to pieces. Shit like that makes me angry. Another one joins the first, both look as though they weigh as much as I do…great big things, could probably tear me to pieces in less than a minute, making enough noise as they went to bring goons running. They don't…for some reason dogs have never bothered me, probably because I don't bother them. I go down on one knee and they bound up, eager tongues lapping at the palm of my hand. I grin slightly, probably more in anticipation of what is to come but at the same time I'm thinking I should get Willow a puppy…yeah, something cute and fluffy, and I can spoil the hell out of it when she's not looking.**

Tara wiped the smile from her face as soon as she had left the dogs sitting on their hind quarters, swishing their tails back and forth across the grass as though they expected her to return for them. She was determined that her imagined future of hugs and puppies was going to come true. Dying a violent and bloody death trying to rescue Willow was not how this was going to end.

She moved swiftly from the manicured lawn onto terracotta tiles but the scent of roses remained the same. There was the house looming a head of her, she was close now and her state of vigilance reflected this. Her eyes darted everywhere, watching in advance for the one mistake that could end everything instantly. Tara dashed across a small courtyard before disappearing into the shadows of a covered walkway. She heard footsteps rounding the corner ahead of her. With nowhere to go, she put the weight of her shotgun to good use, smashing its butt into the face of a guard as he rounded the corner in front of her. He collapsed instantly with blood spurting from a smashed nose. She dragged and shoved him beneath a stone seat, hoping his unconscious body would remain undiscovered for the time it took to complete her work…which she hoped would not be long.

Tara moved ahead, feeling a light sheen of sweat begin to develop on her forehead. A door ahead clicked, as though someone had unlocked it with a swipe card and she moved into the shadow of a garden statute moments before the door opened and a black-suited figure moved directly across her path. He heard nothing as she slipped behind him and ducked inside the door before it closed and locked itself.

Even as the door slid shut behind her, shutting her inside the Talbot residence, Tara was moving. She remained wary as she moved ahead through the lair of her enemy even though the halls seemed cold and empty.

Tara had been in the house for less than a minute when she heard the rap of high heels on marble tiles and quickly folded herself into the nearest cover, a shadowy alcove created by a grandfather clock. The heels sounded closer, strong steps, each one ringing out the sound of power and merciless intent. Tara smelt the woman before she had even laid eyes on her. It was a thick, heavy, cloying scent that wafted through the air and assaulted her nostrils. She felt herself transported back in time eight years to that hospital bed with Glory standing over her broken and helpless body, forced to listen to her when all she really wanted to do was reach out and wrap her mits around the woman's porcelain neck. Now, eight years later, she was almost as close again. She wasn't surprised that they would come so close to each other moments into her mission, she had half been expecting Glory to be standing waiting for her when she entered the house, laying out the welcome mat.

From her concealment, Tara saw a flash of red hair, curly and brassy where Willow's was natural and straight. She found her fingers curl unconsciously around the grip of one of her Berettas and before she knew exactly what she was doing, she had drawn it and was staring down the sights at Glory's head. While the encounter seemed to take an eternity to play out, it reality it was a mere split second. Even so, Tara had time to agonise over her target, to debate whether or not to pull the trigger. If she did, Glory, scourge of Basin City, would be dead but every goon in the mansion would be up in arms. Tommy Talbot would kill Willow and Dawn the moment he found out his mother had been shot dead and her rescue mission would be over before it began. Tara chose to spare her...for now. As she reholstered her weapon, feeling a sensation akin to pain as she did so, her target disappeared through a door.

Tara pressed herself against the wall behind her and let out a slow breath, trying to dispel the tension that had built up in her body. She had a job to do. With satisfying images of a single bullet ploughing into the back of Glory's head playing through her mind, Tara moved on quickly and quietly. Her booted feet barely made a sound on the marble tiles as she moved from shadow to shadow through the ground floor of Glory Talbot's house. She found her first destination easily; kitchens in these places were always tucked away at the back of the ground floor.

The kitchen was oddly deserted as Tara moved amongst the ranks of stainless steel appliances. She remained tense and moved quickly as someone could pop in for a snack at any time. Her boots barely sounded on the tiles beneath them as she moved behind a stack of crockery and placed her bag down. Tara knelt and slowly opened the zip on the bag of tricks in front of her. She felt like licking her lips in anticipation as she lifted the first one out.

After that she worked quickly, efficiently. She was in the kitchen for a mere thirty seconds before moving onto her next destination. After twenty minutes of moving stealthily throughout the lower level of the Talbot home, Tara's calling cards were safely stowed and she turned her attention to the matter that had not left her mind throughout the whole process. This was as much a rescue mission as it was about vengeance. As Tara moved like a hungry wolf through the shadows, she knew she had to remember that lest the vengeance overwhelm her.

* * *

Although the shackles that had held her arms above her head in a painful, unnatural position had been removed minutes earlier, Willow's shoulders felt as though they were dislocated. She sat in an awkward heap on the floor of the tiny room which was her cell, her captors having left her alone for a few moments at least. Even with all her limbs free, Willow knew there was no chance of escape. Although left switched on, the light shone ineffectually and gave her skin a sick glow that matched the way she felt inwardly. It also illuminated the solid walls that surrounded her, broken only by the dark wooden door with its heavy, and most certainly locked, handle. She briefly contemplated banging her fists on its surface in a blind rage while cursing her captors like the cowardly motherfuckers they were. While it would accomplish nothing, at least it was something to do.

Instead she sat in misery, her mid dwelling on her upcoming performance. Willow danced…she was good at it, and despite the leering gazes directed at her near-nude body, she enjoyed it. Being intelligent was one thing, but being able to win over an entire crowd simply by the way you moved your body was another. All too often she had stared out into the crowd as she moved across the stage and seen the rapt faces staring back, faces of men who could think about nothing except the beautiful woman they were watching. Her eyelids slid shut as the lock rattled; she knew what she had to do…although the thought of doing it made her blood run cold. Willow was shivering when she opened her eyes once more. The door slammed open and eager hands reached for her body, dragging her to what would no doubt be the performance of her life.

Even as she was half-dragged through a featureless maze of corridors Willow attempted to compose herself into something approaching the state of mind that she usually held before dancing. She had immense difficulty finding the sensual, exuberant state of mind needed due to her fear and chilled, cramped limbs. Her legs did not want to walk let alone dance and her fragile arms ached with each tug. Dragged through yet another door, Willow had to squint as she met bright lights.

"Your stage awaits little whore," one of her captors propelled her forward with a firm hand.

Willow stumbled, barely avoiding a humiliating fall to her hands and knees. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden fury of light, shapes of men standing around her and hemming her in gradually formed. She blinked a few times and realised that it was not only the lights, but the very walls themselves that dazzled her senses. Light reflected off period-style gilt decorations, framing large friezes showing images from another era, half a world away. It was a ballroom no doubt, a beautiful venue and yet Willow felt far from comforted.

Cruel faces stared at her, some merely outlines beneath the lights and others she could see clearly with their leering, eager expressions that made her sick to her stomach. Briefly she contemplated lashing out but there were a dozen men, and more, in the room. She was prodded forward through the crowd, a prize for all to ogle. The throng parted and Willow once again had to lay eyes upon that pitiful specimen of a man, Tommy Talbot.

Talbot wore an exceptionally self-satisfied smile as he stood at the head of his goons. Willow noticed his white-knuckled grip on his walking stick indicating just how much effort it required for him to stand upright for any period of time. She had to resist the urge to lunge forward and swipe it out from beneath his weight to send his bony carcass crashing to the floor. Instead, she had to stand helplessly and bear the humiliating scrutiny of Tommy and his men.

"I hope you're ready to dance, Willow," he began, a slight cackle following his words. "My men and I have high expectations for what we hope will be a very revealing show."

Willow felt more than a little clammy, her stomach continuing to do somersaults but she kept her chin high when most in her situation would have long since been reduced to quivering wrecks.

"I don't do nudity you fucking pig," Willow replied in a resolute voice.

A cacophony of boos and hisses erupted, Tommy's cackle sounded above it all. Willow knew it was a futile gesture but it had to be said anyway.

"I'm sure when the time comes we won't have any trouble ripping that flimsy, little garment you're wearing off your body," Tommy eyed her up greedily. "It will warm you up for the games I have planned for you later this evening. I don't want you going all shy on me when I finally get you alone. I have been waiting for you for eight years after all."

Willow was dead scared and yet she felt a sudden surge of anger that momentarily pushed fear aside. Her lips curled into a snarl as she surged forward before her minders could stop her to stand nose to nose with the loathsome toad known as Tommy Talbot. Her expression was one of disgust and contempt.

"If you make the mistake of getting your pecker out anywhere near me, I'll rip your balls off!" Willow hissed. "Whether it's with my hands or my teeth!"

She the spat in his face, watching her own spittle hit him between the eyes and run down his nose. His spindly fingers shot out and wrapped themselves around her neck. Willow expected to wrench away easily but he held her with the uncanny strength of a madman, nails digging into her flesh.

"I'm going to be the only one doing any ripping of flesh, Willow," he replied, his voice straining with effort. "Now dance, before I decide to skip this part and go straight to dessert!"

He released her with a slight shove backwards, the back of her calves hit the low stage and she did finally fall. However, even as she lay sprawled on her backside she had the satisfaction of watching as Tommy's goons rushed to support their boss into a waiting chair. The exertion had proved too much for him as his weak little legs gave out.

Someone at the back of the room turned on a sound system. Loud, clear music came through with an insistent, rhythmic beat that sounded like a porno without the images.

"Dance for us Willow, we're all waiting," Tommy lent forward eagerly in his chair.

Willow awkwardly clambered to her feet and faced the wall behind her with her back to the crowd. Desperately, in the last few moments she had before the dance became unavoidable, she looked for an avenue of escape. The stage had wings and a curtain but it was blocked by two men on one side and a single, but exceptionally large man on the right. All stood with their arms crossed over their chests.

"We're waiting, chica," the one on the right spoke to reveal herself as a woman. "Give me a little taste of the sugar you give Maclay."

Willow stared at the butch woman for a few moments, the familiarity in the way Tara's name rolled off her tongue indicated that she probably knew her. She shuddered to think where from. She had to draw her gaze away after those few moments, it was almost as bad as looking into Tommy's eyes…worse, because there was something that this woman knew and she was enjoying the fact that she knew it. When Willow cast another quick glance in her direction she licked her lips in a languorous manner that made her blood run cold.

* * *

Tara pressed her shoulder against the door in front of her and, with one last glance over her shoulder to confirm the coast was clear behind her, she pressed her ear against the cold wood. Her fingers moved to the handle and gripped it tightly. She heard the muffled, angry voices and knew there were at least two men on the other side. She felt the bulge of her shotgun inside her coat and her Berettas at the small of her back. While she itched for them to be kicking in her hands she knew that the situation called for something a little quieter.

"I'm not missing this fucking show!" someone whined as though he was a small boy denied access to an X-rated movie. "If Talbot thinks I'm staying here while the fun goes down-"

"What you gonna do about it?" Another sneered without sympathy in his voice. "You gonna go tell Mr Talbot that you're not happy with his orders? You never know, he's in a good mood so he might not rip you a new set of lips across your neck."

"How the hell is the girl gonna get out of there anyway? She doesn't need a guard. Little whore is probably sitting in there crying over her missing finger!"

Tara heard her teeth grind audibly. If anyone was going to rip new sets of lips it was going to be her.

"Boss isn't worried about her getting' out, it's that bitch Maclay you better be on the look out for, now stay put!" the voice said with an air of finality just on the other side of the door.

Tara felt pressure on the handle beneath her fingertips as it began to open from the other side. Without a moment's hesitation she jammed her own hand down on the handle and slammed it inwards. There was a startled grunt from the other side and the sound of someone falling backwards. Tara moved quickly through the door and straight in the direction she had heard the second man's voice. He had watched startled as the door flew in on his buddy before meeting Tara's fist with his face. He immediately tried to duck beneath her roundhouse swing but she caught him high on the temple and he went crashing against the wall beside him.

The first goon was already rising to his feet after the door had caught him on the forehead. Tara was on him before he could rise completely, a swift elbow to the face snapped his head back and a spinning kick sent him back to the ground. Tara planted her foot hard on his neck and heard a sickening crunch as it snapped.

Before she had time to swing around to finish the other guy off, an arm went around her neck and he threw her against the wall. Tara's face smashed into the glass of a picture frame and she felt a sharp stab on her cheek. With his body weight thrown against her, the goon held her against the wall. One hand gripped a fistful of her hair savagely.

"Boss is gonna give me a private show of my own for this!" he squeaked excitedly, no doubt already licking his lips in anticipation. "You're not even that tough Maclay…just another girl, although a fucking hot one at that."

Tara could feel and smell his greasy breath on the back of her neck, his breath reeked of olives and pasta sauce. She felt his lips close on her ear and squeezed her eyes shut fiercely as he clamped down on it hard with his teeth. With one hand on her hair, keeping her face jammed against the broken glass, he moved the other beneath her jacket. As he pawed at her flesh Tara felt his grip slacken and she smirked. He should have plugged her straight away.

"Fucking little whore aren't cha," his foul breath came in pants. "Gonna have me my own private show."

Tara wrenched herself sideways, feeling the glass tear across her cheek as she did so, and twisted out of his slack grip. She came face to face with the scumbag and closed her fist around the bulge in his pants, jerking it with all the force she could muster as her fingers closed around his neck. She squeezed his windpipe between her fingers and thumb.

"Open that door for me!" she growled. "Or I'll rip your tiny little dick off!"

"Okay, okay," he stammered in a high pitched voice, trying not to move within her grip.

Tara slammed him against the electronic key pad beside the door, still retaining her hold on his balls. He squealed as his tender organ was yanked savagely once again. With trembling fingers, he punched in the numbers and the door clicked open.

"Thank you," Tara whispered sweetly, retaining her hold on him as she peered into the dark room revealed behind the door.

Although she could make out little at first, she eventually saw the outline of a small figure crouched against the far wall. A pale face stared out at her and it was with a mixture of relief and regret that she saw just one girl in the room…Dawn. As the light flooded the little room, Tara saw the girl was naked and she had both her hands tucked beneath her armpits. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Hey…Dawn," Tara whispered gently. "I need you to come up out of there now okay?"

The terrified girl shook her head at first but made to get up slowly, hugging her arms around herself. As she moved out into the hallway, Tara thrust the goon she held into the room with such force that he was thrown headfirst into the opposite wall. He collapsed into a pathetic heap without a sound and Tara shut the door, locking him inside the very cell he had been assigned to guard.

Tara turned her attention to the trembling girl in front of her. In a few seconds she had whipped the jacket from her own shoulders and thrown it around the girl. Dawn clutched the garment tightly about her and it was then that Tara saw the little finger of her right hand was missing, the stump was a ruined and bloody mess of broken bone and flesh. The young woman quickly tucked the hand back beneath her arm when she saw Tara staring.

Without a second thought, Tara folded Dawn into her arms, wrapping them around her like a protective cocoon despite their need to get moving and find Willow. She felt Dawn shudder and as her face was buried in Tara's shoulder, muffled sobs emerged. Tara let her cry for a few moments, awkwardly smoothing her matted hair back.

"Dawn, did you see where they took Willow?" Tara asked, the gentle tone of her voice failing to mask her urgency.

The felt Dawn shake her head quickly as she continued sobbing. Tara pushed the girl away and held her at arms length, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders in reassurance. Dawn choked back more tears but managed to stop beneath Tara's gaze.

"You have to pull yourself together…for both of us, and Willow," Tara had to resist the urge to shake the girl back to her senses. "We have to find her before something happens to her. Can you help me do that?"

Dawn nodded, dashing her good hand across her nose. "Yeah, but I can't help…I don't know where they took her. She wouldn't dance for them…she refused…until they did this."

Dawn held up her hand with the missing finger and studied it as though it no longer hurt. She glanced back up at Tara whose lips were pursed tightly together.

"Tommy's making Willow dance?" Tara asked and received a quick nod in reply, she furrowed her brow. "A large space then…unless he wants her to dance just for him."

"No," Dawn replied quickly. "She's dancing for all of them. The guys in suits. Please Tara, we have to find her…they could be hurting her!"

"We'll find her before they have a chance!" Tara replied as though it were a promise to Dawn, herself and Willow…wherever she was.

"I'm coming with you?" Dawn asked urgently, fearing more than anything that Tara would leave her alone again.

Tara turned to look at Dawn, her pale face almost shining in the poor light and she nodded firmly in reassurance. "Yeah kid, you'd be as safe with me as you'd be anywhere else in this place…but I have to ask you to do exactly as I say, keep quiet and don't try anything stupid."

"Willow's my family!" Dawn said bravely.

"Well, don't go shooting unless I say so," Tara whipped a small pistol from her boot and passed it across to Dawn. "And I'm going to need you to turn out the lights when I give the signal."

Dawn held the weapon gingerly in her hand and furrowed her brow. "We won't be able to see anything."

"Neither will they…and we'll be expecting it," Tara replied calmly, arching a single eyebrow at the expression on Dawn's face. "Or have you got a better plan?"

"Well, no," Dawn replied, turning her attention to fastening up the coat Tara had given her. "But we've got to have something better than charging in there and turning off the lights!"

"Dawn, what did I say earlier?" Tara asked testily.

"Err, do as you say, keep quiet and…" Dawn began sheepishly.

"Exactly!" Tara interrupted, "We're moving out, stay close!"

**I desperately want to wrap the poor kid up in cotton wool and bundle her away somewhere safe while this business goes down but I know I can't afford to do that…especially with the surprises I've got in store for later. She's right though, my plan stinks and it has more holes in it than fuckin' swiss cheese. I check both my cannons and the shotgun which is tucked beneath my webbing, it's nestled against my back and I feel it dig into my flesh reassuringly. I've got a few cards to play, I can only hope my hand is good enough.**

* * *

"Can you hear the music?" Dawn whispered.

Tara cocked her head and nodded in response to Dawn's question. It was echoing through the walls, distant but close by. She had both Berettas in her hands as she inched forward cautiously. The sound led them to a small door, almost hidden which Tara hoped was a side entrance of sorts. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Dawn behind her as she placed her hand on the door handle and pushed it inwards. No alarms sounded, no goons rushed to meet them with raised weapons. Both women could now distinctly hear the throbbing, sexual beat that emanated from somewhere inside. Added to this, were men's voices raised in raucous shouts. While most were fused into an undecipherable cacophony, a few vulgar comments could be made out.

Dawn found herself rushing to keep up with Tara as the ex-cop practically ran into the darkened room behind the door. She glanced around, noting a switchboard to one side which was no doubt the lighting system for the room beyond. They emerged in a sort of backstage area with light streaming up ahead from the stage itself. She only caught partial glimpses of the person on the stage, but she knew in an instant that it was her friend Willow. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to restrain Tara and felt the older woman's muscles tense beneath her touch.

Tara was aware of nothing besides the fact that she could see Willow…only flashes of her, white skin and red hair whirling. With the realisation that she was being forced to dance, Tara felt a white hot rage surge in her. Despite the fact that she could see very little of what she was up against besides the two men blocking her path to Willow, she charged forward, oblivious to Dawn's restraining hand as it fell from her shoulder. In one swift movement, the hilt of a knife rested in her palm and in another she brought it up to slice swiftly across the neck of the one standing nearest her. There was a brief spray of warm blood as he crumpled to the floor. His partner turned to face the movement he saw from the corner of his eye, just in time to see Tara's knife plunge into his chest. She buried it up to the hilt and was staring right into his surprised, bulging eyes as blood entered his lungs and bubbled from his lips. He staggered once and clutched at the stage curtain for support. It tore beneath his bulk and both he and the curtain went fell out on the stage. He lay wrapped in his death shroud even as Tara stepped over his body, drawing both Berettas and brining them immediately to bear on the man whom she knew would be sitting directly in front of the stage.

"Tommy Talbot, you slimy little fuck," she spat, aiming for his pale forehead.

Tara did not waver an inch even as every other weapon in the room was drawn in unison…the only difference being that they were all pointed towards her. It was her two against twenty, but Tara liked those odds just fine.

The music continued to sound in the background, although Willow was no longer dancing. Her attention was focused on her lover standing to the left of the stage. A look of overwhelming relief mingled with absolute horror was fixed on the redhead's face. While it was the salvation she had been constantly dreaming throughout her day of horror…now that Tara was here she wished more than anything that she had not risked certain death coming into this snake pit. Although Tara did not take her eyes off Tommy, Willow felt the depth of Tara's attention as from the corner of her eyes she tried to determine if she had been hurt, to reassure her despite the situation she had now put them both in.

Tommy remained sitting in his chair, the look of immediate surprise on his face had not been replaced, it had merely morphed slightly into one of pleasant surprise. He pursed his hands together in front of him as a man praising someone for his good fortune.

"Well, well, if it isn't the former detective Tara Maclay…you haven't changed since the last time I saw you, when I was sprawled in agony on that rain soaked street after you shattered both my knees completely…bitch!" Tommy spat. "Prison was less than you deserved!"

"You're the bitch that should have gone to prison," Tara replied coolly, her head cleared enough for her to take stock of the situation.

She regretted charging in like an angry fool but there was little she could do about it now, she was up against it no doubt about that. While she kept her gaze fixed on Talbot, she surveyed the room. She saw the small sea of suit-clad shapes, the metal of their gun barrels pointing in her direction. They were all in a state of dishevelment, ties loose and shirts coming undone as they had moments ago been revealing in their wanton lust. They were a bunch of dangerous, pissed off men and anyone of them could have a jumpy trigger finger.

Tara also knew Willow was just behind her…and that was bad. If the situation deteriorated, which seemed inevitable, there was no way she could protect the kid save throwing herself in front of a hail of bullets. Someone had to break…or take a chance.

What happened next threw the ex-cop completely.

"Speaking of prisons…I think you'll enjoy meeting up with one of your old friends, someone I believe you know very well indeed," Tommy threw out one arm in the direction of stage right, as though he were introducing a new character to a play.

"Hello, chica, I miss your sweet cheeks so very much," a deep voice rumbled from the stage wing, a figure emerged from the shadows in a single, confident stride.

An immediate change came over Tara. Her shoulders tensed and the Berettas in her hand trembled. Both Dawn and Willow felt shivers run down their spines as they saw the solid rock in the plan start to crumble at just the sound of a voice.

**I feel everything magnified a thousand fold. The coat of cold sweat that covers my body, the sting of the gash on my cheek from where that sonofabitch rammed my face into a mirror and the blood caking on my face. Willow whispers my name urgently but it just makes things worse. The shakes start in my gut, a pit of queasy fear. Above the trembling barrels of my Berettas, I see Tommy's ugly mug. He's laughing at me but my fingers are too stiff to jerk a trigger and wipe the smug smile off his face. It's the same frozen fear that I felt eight years ago…my first night in prison when that fuckin' dyke jumped me. I can't see her…but I know she's there…she's staring at me with those piggy little eyes of hers…all**** six foot, two hundred and fifty pounds of her.**

"Baby Dedara," Tara growled through gritted teeth


	14. Three Big Fat Kills

**Chapter 14  
Three Big Fat Kills**

Suddenly the ballroom went pitch black as Dawn flipped the master light switch behind the stage without waiting for any signal from Tara. The little Lady stood trembling in the dark, wondering if she had done the right thing until she felt something heavy slam into her. She was about to scream when a hand clamped over her mouth and she felt hot breath near her ear.

"Quiet! Out the way we came in now!" it was Tara speaking in a low and urgent voice.

Dawn was making for the tiny slit of light ahead of her when the shooting started, they were blind shots fired in the spot Tara and Willow had been standing just mere seconds before. She burst through the door, almost tumbling head on into a man who had been about to enter and she barely suppressed the scream she wanted to let out. Even as she watched him level his own handgun at her, she knew she ought to fire her own first. Dawn was frozen, unable to jerk her trigger finger forward to fire the weapon in her hand. There was a small eruption from behind, the guy's head jerked back with a single hole in his forehead and he toppled to the floor. Dawn glanced over her shoulder to see a thin plume of smoke coming from the barrel of one of Tara's Berettas. She looked behind Tara and saw a pale Willow clutching her lover's hand tightly.

There was no time for reunions of any sort, Tara prodded Dawn forward with the handle of the Beretta. "Straight ahead and then right, continue down the hallway and take a left into a foyer…the glass door at the end is our way outta here…stay close, it's gonna get dark again!"

Dawn had started forward when she heard a muffled explosion which jarred the substructure of the house around them. It was immediately followed by the lights above and on the walls winking out in an instant. Tara prodded the young girl forward once again and Dawn stumbled blindly down the passage, trying to remember Tara's directions. She slammed into several walls before emerging in the glass foyer Tara had mentioned, it was dimly lit by the glow of the city beyond the gardens. Before she could even get close enough to try the handle, there was a painfully loud bang as Tara blew the lock off with her shotgun.

The blonde ex-cop pushed past Dawn, shouldering the door open with a powerful shove of her shoulder. All three of them escaped out into the night. Tara surging forward ahead of the two girls, her shotgun raised. A goon came from the right, Tara pumped the gun once and fired, sending him crashing backwards straight into an imitation Grecian stature. White shards of marble flew out in a cloud around his body. A bullet slammed into brick inches from Tara's head and she whirled, pumping again before dispatching the second goon before he could loose off a second shot. He went crashing through a window, shattered glass falling around him.

"The fence, both of you…keep low!" Tara hissed, pushing both Dawn and Willow forward.

Willow paused, reluctant to be separated from Tara as the blonde turned to scan for pursuers. Tara sensed Willow's lack of movement and glanced over her shoulder with an angry scowl on her face. She saw Dawn making a cautious but swift path straight for the wall while Willow was poised on the edge of movement but held fast by her fright and concern for Tara.

* * *

As she made her way towards the wall, expecting a bullet in her back at any second, Dawn kept her head down like she was told. There was movement ahead and she saw a figure moving atop the wall, this time managing to lift her gun to shoot whoever it was. She was about to pepper the shape with bullets when she recognised a welcome and familiar face.

"Faith!" she gasped, reaching up for the hand that was offered.

With one strong pull, the brunette pulled her up atop the wall and Dawn scrambled up to lie flat next to Faith. She turned and saw both Willow and Tara still next to the house, her eyes opened in horror as she had expected them to be directly behind her.

"Fuck! Maclay couldn't organise her way out of a paper bag!" Faith growled angrily, watching the two figures in the distance as they both turned towards the wall.

Faith could only watch as another figure emerged from the house while Tara's attention was focused on Willow. A warning was on her lips as the large figure strode towards her friends. She was about to spring down from the wall when Dawn screamed once beside her and disappeared from the wall, dragged backwards by her ankles by someone unseen on the other side of the wall. Before Faith could move, she felt vice-like grips around her own ankles and she too was hauled down from her perch with an angry snarl.

* * *

Willow watched over her shoulder as Dawn disappeared over the wall but she did not follow. She knew she should do exactly as Tara said and get the hell out of that garden but as long as Tara stayed, she stayed. Willow wasn't even sure why Tara had to stay behind, they had no immediate pursuers. The blonde just stood in a tense stance, watching the house as though she were waiting for something…or someone.

Tara knew she should run. She had nothing to gain by staying in the garden but she was compelled to face the one aspect of her past that she could run from no longer. If she ran again, she would always be running. The coast was still clear and she cast a quick glance over her should to discover Willow stubbornly standing right on her heels, a determined expression fixed on her face. Tara gave an exasperated grunt.

"Go! For fuck's sake, Willow!" Tara urged with a wave of her hand. "I'll be right behind you!"

"No!" Willow shot back, just as forcefully as Tara. "You'll be right beside me!"

Willow's hand shot out to latch onto Tara's wrist and she tugged insistently in the direction of the wall. Tara tugged out of Willow's grip with one swift jerk of her arm but her face had already softened slightly.

"You stupid girl," Tara whispered. "I have to stay and do this."

"What can be more important than getting the hell out of here?" Willow demanded.

Tara's attention was focused on Willow when she heard solid footsteps on the marble tiles behind her. She spun on her heels, drawing both her Berettas as she whirled about. The barrels of her guns were levelled directly at the face of Baby Dedara who was marching towards her in a confident stride. Although the con carried no visible weapons she was rubbing her palms together in anticipation, not in the least bit disturbed by facing Tara's Berettas.

Tara instantly knew why the bitch was so confident and her guts turned to stone. Keeping her guns on Dedara she glanced over her shoulder just as she heard a strangled gasp from Willow. Even as she swung one Beretta around to face Willow's attackers, black suits swarmed the redhead's small frame, manhandling her quickly into submission despite her valiant struggles. In a few seconds she was caught in a headlock with a pistol pressed firmly against her temple. Tara was standing with one gun trained on Dedara's forehead and another in the general direction of the thugs bunched around Willow. It was impossible to keep an eye on both directions at once.

Although the situation was decidedly not in her favour, Tara remained composed. She shifted her gaze between her targets and kept up a reassuring façade for Willow's sake.

"Us ex-cons can see well in the dark eh, chica?" Baby stopped a few metres away from Tara and commenced flexing her knuckles with great enthusiasm.

"Tell those goons over there to let the girl go," Tara was straight to business. "Or I'll drill a hole straight through your forehead. It's a pretty big target so I won't miss."

Baby laughed, "You always were a pretty funny lady, Maclay," she then inclined her head slightly in Willow's direction. "Your girl's pretty. Would be a shame to blow the side of her head apart. I don't think she'd look so pretty with half her face missing, no?"

It was a stalemate. Tara knew she could blow Baby a new air hole and possibly even plug the guy holding Willow and one of his buddies, she also knew that as she squeezed off a fourth shot, bullets would slam into either her own body or Willow's, probably both.

Willow kept up her struggle against the thug holding her but his trunk like arm held fast around her neck. With it struggle it grew tighter to the point where she could barely breath. The barrel of his gun felt as though it were breaking the skin at her temple. Although she was hardly an expert in such situations, Willow could clearly see that Tara had very few options, all of which would end up messy.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere," Baby grunted impatiently. "What you say you get rid of those cannons? You and me Maclay - just like the old days."

"Yeah, just like the old days," Tara replied sardonically. "Just you and a gang of thugs to back you up if something goes wrong."

"You always were a spoil sport. I promise okay, is that enough for you?"

"I kick your arse and Willow and I are out of here?" Tara asked warily.

"On my honour," Baby placed her fist against her heart.

Tara arched an eyebrow as though disputing the essence of that statement. She remained motionless in her same position for some moments with one weapon pointed unwaveringly at Baby's head.

Willow's attention was riveted on Tara's body as she expected the blonde to move at any second and she knew she would have to be prepared to move as well. When Tara finally did move it was slow and deliberate. She slowly raised both hands and flipped her Berettas so the barrels were facing her palms. She then dropped the guns to the ground and kept her hands in the air. Willow's felt her heart thud against her chest and hoped to god that Tara knew what she was doing as she stood unarmed in the midst of a gang of ruthless thugs. She heard her captors murmur in anticipation before roughly dragging her further away in order to give the two women more space.

"We're on, puta!" Baby slapped her hands together excitedly before taking up a loose fighting stance with her huge mits out in front.

Tara's body remained still in the face of Baby's posturing, an expression born of boredom and contempt displayed plainly on her face.

**Dedara is dancing around like a prize-fighter in the ring. It sickens me but that's not the worst of it…it's the fact that I know it's not all posturing. She's built like the bull dyke she is, six foot, two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. I know from experience that trying to drop her is like trying to drop an elephant with an air rifle. I'm aware of Willow looking on and a part of me wishes they would take her away because I know that it would destroy her to see Dedara beat me to a pulp. That's not something I'm especially keen to see happen either…but I can't rule it out. I remember all too clearly what happened the first time she caught me alone and unprepared eight years ago. I remember how much it bloody hurt, both physically and mentally. There's nothing more degrading, nothing that leaves so big a scar as having as loathsome and cruel an individual as Baby lay their hands on you…it makes me sick to look at her now.**

For all Baby's size, she moved like lightning. Her first right-handed jab shot out straight at Tara's temple like a piston with a follow up blow from the left swinging around to catch her as she tried to duck. Tara just managed to weave to one side as she felt steel-like knuckles graze the side of the head and then ducked low to miss the second swing.

From that moment the fight was on, with the two women moving across Glory Talbot's lawn at a frenetic pace that did not appear to let up for a moment. Baby relied mostly on her brute power as she sent crushing blows towards Tara's face and body, any one of which would have sent Tara reeling.

In the face of Baby's brutal attacks, Tara had to rely on her speed and the hope that eventually Baby would tire. The con was a large woman with dense muscle packed onto her frame. It gave her brute power but at the same time sapped her staying power. Tara was lithe and fit which of course meant she could tough it out for longer. Staying power combined with her hatred meant she could tough it out as long as it took to bring the bitch down.

She ducked beneath another of Baby's right punches; it missed her by a mile. Too late Tara realised that it had been a feint with the sole aim of putting her directly into the path of her left. The meaty fist crashed into Tara's jaw and sent her spinning sideways, senses disappearing into blackness. She came to with blades of grass pressed against her cheek and the smell of earth and cut grass filling her nostrils. Her limbs felt oddly disconnected from her body as she struggled to make them work. Tara planted both palms in the dirt and dragged herself upwards. Despite the ringing in her ears and persistent double vision that gave her four hands, Tara knew she had mere seconds before Baby pressed home her advantage.

Tara rolled onto her back just as a heavy boot thudded into the earth where her body had lain. Her double vision led to the awful nightmare of two Baby Dedara's standing over her with their arms drawn back, about to strike again.

"Hasta la vista, chica," Baby grunted as she let loose on the seemingly helpless woman beneath her.

At the moment the fists came crashing down, the two merged into one and Tara lifted her own hands to catch the grapefruit sized hunk of flesh and bone before it could pound into her face. She stopped the punch cold and lifted her leg to ram her foot forward into Baby's hefty gut and drive the wind right out of her. Baby fell backwards along with her fist.

"Don't count your chickens, Dedara," Tara sneered at Baby's clichéd comment as she sprang to her feet, her own banter disguising her inability to stand properly. "You know it'll take more than one of your bitch slaps to keep me down!"

Angered by Tara's taunts, Baby unleashed a growl from the back of her throat and threw her bulk forward. Tara was reminded of a charging bull, complete with bared tusks, as Baby came crashing towards her. She had all the time in the world to avoid Baby's charge, diving easily beneath her outstretched arms and spinning to face her broad back. Baby then turned into Tara's fists before she had time to straighten out. Tara unleashed a right, left, uppercut combo which snapped Baby's head from side to side and then jerked her chin backwards sharply. She then brought her knee up into Baby's chin before she could even shake off the last blow. Each blow struck Baby's flesh with a satisfying crack. The big woman stumbled backwards beneath Tara's furious blows, shoulders sagging. As Baby stood, half-hunched, Tara brought her leg in a sweeping roundhouse kick aimed at her midsection. Baby saw the kick coming and, far from finished, she twisted slightly to catch Tara's leg in her form grip. She then used the leg as leverage to lift and hurl Tara through the air like a log of wood.

Tara spun several times before she crashed into the ground once again. Although dazed, she quickly sprang to her feet and was ready to meet Baby as she charged once more. Baby approached more cautiously, resorting once again to her fists rather than using her whole body weight. Tara was forced to concentrate for all she was worth, watching each blow, judging the timing and staying wary of the feint. She managed to sneak in several blows of her own to Baby's head and gut although none appeared to have much of an effect.

"Slowing down, Maclay," Baby taunted as Tara danced away from her latest punch, the two women faced each other out of arms reach.

"Not in the slightest," Tara hissed in reply, trying to keep the exhaustion from sounding too clearly in her voice. "Why, are you?"

"Maldita puta!" Baby spat a bloody gob onto the ground in front of her. "Baby won't slow down until she's finished you off good and proper. I should've done it eight years ago."

Baby bounced lightly on her feet, flexed her neck from side to side and threw a couple of air punches to prove that she still had more than enough left to cause Tara considerable grief.

"You're a fucking pussy," Tara replied contemptuously, lightly stepping in a semi-circle around Baby, forcing the other woman to keep moving to face her."You didn't have the balls to do it then, you wouldn't have even dared touch me if it hadn't been for your posse backing you up. You couldn't lift a finger to wipe your arse without them."

Tara laughed as Baby came at her once again in the heat of anger, missing by a mile with her badly timed swings. She was content to duck and dance around Baby as she swung and tired herself without so much as managing to hit a hair on her arm.

"Let's not forget why you took a shine to me in the first place," Tara commented, planting a few of her own punches on Baby's face, feeling the satisfying crunch as he fingers pounded Baby's flesh back against her skull. "Your Mommy ordered you to take care of me didn't she? Taking orders, that's all you do. Glory Talbot owns you, Baby."

"Eh, Maclay, you gettin' on my nerves, want me to tell your little whore over there about our first night together in the joint? Maybe we could swap bed stories eh?" Baby paused and glanced over to where Willow was being held to direct her next words to her, "She didn't tell you did she, Pelirroja? She didn't tell you that Baby is one mother-fucking hot lover!"

Willow had felt her fists clench instinctively with each sound of flesh striking flesh, each blow that Tara took felt as though it had been delivered to her own body. The latest blow sent her reeling more than any other…and it had been mere words. Across the short distance that separated then, she watched the red flush of exhaustion drain from Tara's cheeks to be replaced by the while pallor of terror. A lump was jammed in her throat as Tara turned to look at her with those blue eyes of hers shining with unshed tears. Willow stood, frozen in place, the lump threatening to choke her as she tried to process the myriad of feelings running through her mind, the thousand and one thoughts that she could not express all at once. Willow herself was scared, cold and hurt but her gut ached most of all for Tara.

Her eyes were riveted on her blonde lover and she had never seen her appear so vulnerable despite her leather clad thighs, ripped biceps and bloody clothing. Willow knew she had to make it to Tara's side and protect her from Baby Dedara. She turned her attention to the other woman, a gloating, self-satisfied expression on her face that made Willow clench her fists and strain against her captors.

Tara was somewhere else…

**It shouldn't happen like this, not now, but I'm drawn back to that night. My first night in hell. I was already on laundry detail. It was stinking hot, steam filled the air and the sweat ran in rivers down my body, soaking my clothes to my skin. I didn't even know what hit me really, but there were five of them and they caught me by surprise. I was thrown forward against the metal table, face first into the dirty laundry. The next thing I knew I was stripped naked from the waist down. I knew it was Dedara from her foul smell. Fat, rough fingers stabbed between my legs while the bitch ground herself against my arse. I'm not sure what was worse, feeling her groping inside me or the orgasm that shook her body.**

With Tara's attention drawn away from the fight at hand and buried within her own private terror, Baby caught her with a powerful right hook on the jaw. Tara's head snapped sideways and she crashed to the ground. Once again she tried to struggle to her feet but only got as far as her hands and knees before one of Baby's steel caps thudded into her gut. Tara was thrown onto her back by the force of the kick. She crumpled as Baby continued to boot her, a look of malice and determination creasing her face.

Willow watched forced to watch in horror. Despite the fact that it was already clear Tara would not be leaping to her feet in a hurry, Baby planted one foot on either side of her body, grabbed the front of her shirt to lift her up from the ground and being laying into her with repeated jabs to the face. After several blows she threw Tara back to the ground and wiped her hands.

"Eh boys, show's over," Baby turned her head and called out to the men who held Willow, she waved them towards the house. "Better take the girl inside, Mr Talbot will be waiting for her…I'll finish up out here.'

Focused solely on Tara's motionless body, Willow was blinded to everything else that was going on around her. The sight of Tara's bloody face filled her vision and she wanted nothing more than to move forward. When hands tightened even further on her already bruised arms and attempted to drag her backwards, away from Tara, Willow snapped out of her terrified trance. She unleashed a sudden and violent struggle against the arms that held her, twisting every which way as she tried to extract herself all the while calling out desperately for Tara.

"Tara!" Willow yelled as she kicked out with her legs, trying to catch one of her attackers. "Tara! Lemme go you big brutes!"

Willow struggled so furiously that she managed to escape their clutches altogether. However, she barely managed to break into a run before they tackled her and dragged her to her feet, still lashing out.

"You sack of shit!" Willow yelled in Baby's direction. "Hot lover my arse…you're a coward! A great big coward!"

One of the 'big brutes' grunted in annoyance and reached down to fumble for the holster at his waist. In one swift movement he drew his pistol and brought it crashing down on the side of his captive's head. The struggling ceased immediately and she sagged like limp sack of potatoes. He grunted once more, obviously pleased to have shut her up, and with very little effort tossed her over his shoulder. The pair moved inside with their unconscious prize, leaving Baby to put an end to the bloody and broken woman at her feet.

* * *

Dragged unceremoniously from her perch on the wall Faith was then dumped on the ground. Indignant that she could have succumbed to such treatment she bolted to her feet, angry and impatient to kick the arse of whoever was responsible. She stood straight into the path of an incoming right hook which snapped her jaw to the side and sent her spinning to the ground where she landed with an audible thud.

Faith's ears rang as she lifted her face from the gravel. More than a few stones remained embedded in the skin of her cheek as she did so. She heard the crunch of boots behind her and feigned a more serious injury. When her attacker was within striking distance she lashed out with her boot and caught both legs in a sweeping kick. He grunted as his body struck the gravel hard, more from surprise than pain as he bounded lightly to his feet. Despite his speed, Faith had time to kick herself to her feet. In a split second she was standing with her feet firmly planted and a wicked looking knife in her right hand.

It was in that moment, as she faced off against her attacker that she could see just who she was up against. He was a lean man with an angular face, his body clad in a leather jacket that hung to the tops of his combat boots. A pair of piercing eyes bore through the darkness and into her own.

The two warriors faced one another in the shadow of the wall. Their battlefield was an expanse of gravel and lawn, a sharp line down the centre where shadow and streetlight met. The quiet was only broken by the sound of the girl, Dawn, scrambling across the gravel on all fours to a spot behind Faith. Her eyes were wide with terror at the sight of the man she recognised all too clearly.

"Faith, be careful…he killed Buffy!" Dawn called out, having witnessed the blond killer's considerable strength in the fight with her sister she knew just how dangerous he was, and she also knew full well that her words would incite the brunette with a desire to revenge her friend's death.

Faith's eyes immediately narrowed as she felt hate and a desire for revenge surge through her body.

Her grip tightened on the haft of her knife.

"Name's Faith," the brunette hissed clearly. "Just so you know who's going to rip your fucking throat open and laugh as you gurgle away your last few moments of life!"

"Spike," he drawled casually in reply, a small smirk creasing his face as he drew his own blade from inside his coat and ran his thumb along the edge. "Your girl Buffy was a right little spitfire…she was good. Are you sure you're better? Because if you're not…I'll be the only one doing any ripping here tonight."

"Am I better?" Faith growled, further incensed by his mention of Buffy's name. "Why don't you come over here and find out?"

Their banter over, Faith and Spike surged forward at the same moment both searching to make the first strike. Faith was faster on her feet, and she received a grunt of surprise from her opponent as he had to twist his body and grab at her knife arm to avoid being run through.

With her wrist ensnared in a vice-like grip, Faith delivered a swift kick to Spike's knee even as he brought his own knife up towards her body, he crumpled slightly and the sharp blade narrowly missed her arm instead of plunging beneath her rib-cage. They then began a dance, trading delicate jabs and swiping knife blows as their feet moved across the gravel beneath them. Unlike a fist-fight, it was all too quiet. The only sounds being the crunch of small stones and the barely audible swish of metal through the air. Every so often Faith or Spike would grunt in frustration as yet another blow went wide or was blocked.

The pair was evenly matched. Both Faith and Spike knew that inwardly, although neither would admit it in any way. They traded blow after blow with a few hits striking and even fewer actually taking a toll on the opponent. Faith was bleeding profusely from a deep gash along her forearm but she stoically ignored it. She had managed to swipe Spike across his chest, ripping open his shirt and leaving a trail of red.

After their evenly matched contest, the conclusion was almost an anti-climax in its finality and apparent ease. However, the actual execution of it concealed the difficulty of learning and understanding the way your opponent moved which culminated in the ability to predict the next attack. Faith did just that, she knew Spike favoured his right side while the left was for little more than defence. He went in high, aiming for the throat with many of his swipes. Faith suspected that he craved the sight of a person's life-blood pumping out of their severed jugular.

It was almost simple, Spike's left crashed into Faith's shoulder and she used its force to spin around her opponent. She ducked beneath his awkward swipe as she moved around him and deftly spun her knife mid-twirl so it lay face down in her palm. He was already moving to face her once more but she was fast, driven by the need to finish this fight. She leapt and slammed the weapon downwards between his shoulder blades. Spike let out a long groan and slumped forwards. Before he could fall or stumble Faith had moved completely behind him and wrapped her left arm around his body to prop him up. As she cradled his body, feeling hot blood from his wound soak into her own clothing, she wrapped her right arm around his body and brought the knife straight down into his chest and twisted savagely.

"I guess I am better," she whispered in his ear as blood gushed from the second, fatal would.

With a grunt of disgust, she released his dying body from her hold and took a step back to allow him to slump to the ground. He fell face forward into the gravel and an ever-widening pool of blood began to form beneath him. Spike gave one last spasm before he died. Faith stood over his body feeling little emotion other than anger.

"That's for Buffy you nancy piece of shit!" Faith contemptuously spat blood onto the corpse at her feet.

Faith turned away from the corpse and found Dawn standing a few metres behind her, a small half-smile creasing her face. She reached out her arm to the girl and Dawn came running forward. She flew into Faith's body with a dull thud and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

"I know it's not going to bring your sister back," Faith remarked dully as she stared at the body lying before her and stroked Dawn's hair. "But it sure as hell makes me feel a damn sight better!"

Dawn looked up at Faith and nodded in agreement as she stated simply, "She'd have been impressed."

Faith glanced back towards the Talbot mansion and was deeply disturbed by the silence and absence of either Willow or Tara. She glanced back to the Oldsmobile parked a ways down the street and checked her pocket to find the keys still there. They jingled in her hand as she ran her fingers over them, lost in thought for a few moments.

"I think it's high time we found out what the fuck has been keeping Maclay," she announced resolutely.

* * *

Willow Rosenberg regained consciousness with her last memory being her lover lying senseless on the manicured lawn as Baby Dedara kicked her repeatedly in the stomach. Combined with her pounding headache it was not a good way to wake and it put her in a decidedly angry frame of mind. She moved her limbs experimentally but soon felt heavy metal cuffs encircling her wrists. Willow lifted her head to find herself manacled on her stomach to the headboard of a large bed. She twisted her head awkwardly and found herself in a sumptuously appointed room with rich furnishings and a marble fireplace. There was no doubt in her mind as to why she was there. At any moment, Tommy Talbot would swagger into the room and find his long-awaited and much-fought over prize lying spread-eagled on the bed for him.

The thought of lying helpless on the bed as Tommy made his triumphant entrance made Willow sick to her stomach. She pulled experimentally at the cuffs that held her by the wrists and found them to be poorly tightened, although not nearly enough for her to slip out of them. Willow took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and then jerked her hand backwards, trying to tear herself free from the metal cuffs. There was no way her hand was going to come free without breaking her skin but Willow was desperately determined. There was no rescue coming now…she only had her anger to get her out of this.

Willow bit her lip to stifle the inevitable scream as her right hand tore free from the cuffs. She glanced down at the swollen, bloody wrist to find that it was not as bad as she had prepared herself for. It stung like hell...but strengthened her resolve to rip the second hand free. Ignoring the pain in her wrists, Willow swung herself from the bed and padded quickly across the floor to the heavy door. She gently pressed down on the handle but found it securely locked. She was about to growl in frustration when she heard shuffling footsteps outside the door. Willow looked around frantically for something…anything that she could use as a weapon. Much to her annoyance the dominant furnishing in the room appeared to be cushions. She then glanced across to the fireplace and found the perfect tool.

Tommy entered the room to find his captive laid out on the bed in front of him, satin night dress barely concealing the mounds of her buttocks. He took a few steps into the room and closed the door behind him. As he approached the bed he licked his lips in anticipation, feeling confident enough to toss his cane to one side. A little awkwardly, he began stripping his clothes from his body before he joined the unconscious girl in bed. He stopped when he was down to his white shirt and boxer shorts, leaving him a rather pathetic specimen of manhood as he clambered up on the big bed. He greedily took in the sight of Willow's flesh laid out before him and although he itched to tear the only item of clothing from her body, he also wanted to draw things out as long as possible…several days at least.

"Wakey wakey, Willow," he whispered, hunkering down behind her.

It was then that Tommy saw the blood staining the bed covers. He paused in a kneeling position behind Willow. His gaze travelled up her body, expecting to find that his men had injured her in some way but instead he saw the bands of red around her wrists. A lump formed in his throat when he saw the bloody, empty cuffs dangling from the headboard.

"What the…"

It was all he had time to say before Willow moved in a blur, rising from her face down position and bringing her right arm swinging around. The fire poker in her hand caught Tommy Talbot a glancing blow on the side of his head and he toppled backwards off the bed. Willow followed, poker in hand. She watched him for a few moments as he tried to raise himself into a crawling position and felt a cold contempt for her would be rapist.

"Goodnight, Tommy," Willow whispered, feeling an odd hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as she raised the poker above her head once more.

* * *

Tara was dimly aware of the dull thud of something hard into earth. She recognised the sound all too well; it was the sound of someone digging a hole. If there was one thing a con doing hard time knew about, it was digging holes. Tara had dug enough of them in her time to know the familiar thud of the shovel striking earth - soft earth in this case - a booted foot forcing it further into the ground, the squelch as it was levered upwards with its load and the swish just before the earth spattered into a pile. In conjunction to the sound, she felt the vibrations through the earth as she lay face down, her cheek turned to one side. She was aware of all this before she could even open her eyes.

Tara forced her eyes open but she could only manage small slits, enough to see who's boot it was that was doing the digging…Baby. Someone else who had plenty of practice digging holes. She must have seen Tara's eyes open because she stopped digging and tossed her shovel down onto the large mound of dirt at her side. Baby hunkered down to place herself within Tara's line of sight.

"Digging you a nice little grave here, Maclay," Baby inclined her head towards the hole. "Figured Ms Talbot would enjoy the thought of you pushing up her roses.

Tara didn't reply, she couldn't get her mouth to move. All she could do was lie and stare at Baby. She closed her eyes fairly quickly and found herself in agony not because of the battering her body had taken, but because she had let Willow down. Her beautiful, surprisingly innocent girl was in the hands of that sick little monster because she had let the sadistic pig squatting in front of her get to her.

Baby was apparently enjoying the occasion with the intention of savouring it and drawing it out as long as possible. She grunted as Tara refused to open her eyes and look at her, returning to her digging. As she shovelled, she continued talking. Tara ceased to listen, she blocked the guttural sounds out and willed herself to sink into unconsciousness. It was all she could do as she'd already tried to move her limbs and felt nothing but excruciating pain. There was no way she could drag herself to her feet unaided.

A few minutes later Tara was aware of fingers curling around her ankles. Her legs were raised and someone tugged, dragging her deadweight body across the grass. Tara felt the blades of grass scrape against the skin of her cheek. Any second now and her body would be shoved into the hole Baby had lovingly prepared for the purpose. She imagined her face thudding into the soft, cool earth. That same earth would then begin to land on her body as Baby refilled her hole. At first it would just be a splattering, barely any weight at all. However, all too quickly it would cover her completely and the weight would become intense and suffocating. Tara had always imagined her death coming in a hail of bullets, even though someone had already tried that. Being buried alive was a hell of a way to die…

A sharp crack suddenly sliced through the night air. Tara immediately recognised it as a shot from a Beretta, her own tool of the trade. The grip on her ankles disappeared. She heard a thud, the sound of a large person falling several feet into soft earth. Moments later came the barely audible sound of bare feet striking grass, growing louder as they drew closer. A weight hit the ground directly beside her and she felt gentle but insistent hands on her body. Then came the sweetest sound she'd heard all night…

"Please tell me you're not dead!" Willow's voice pleaded, her voice sounded close as she was obviously leaning directly over Tara.

"Just about," Tara heard herself reply, the words squeezed out between clenched teeth.

Willow choked out a laugh of relief and she manoeuvred behind Tara, hooking her arms beneath Tara's armpits. She strained to pull Tara upright with some urgency. At the sudden reappearance of her pain, Tara's eyes snapped open. Willow was behind her so all she could see of her was strands of red hair fluttering past her face.

"We gotta go, baby," Willow huffed and puffed as she managed to get Tara into a sitting position. "They would've heard that shot for sure."

"What?" Tara asked dimly, feeling an overwhelming rush of blood throughout her body as Willow moved her about roughly in her haste, even though she was trying to be as gentle as possible.

"I shot the bitch," Willow replied simply.

It was then that Tara realised she could see her would-be grave. For a few moments she had the eerie sensation of looking down at herself in death before her mind registered that it was in fact Baby Dedara, a single bullet hole through her forehead. Her piggy little eyes stared sightless at the night sky.

**As I lay in Willow's arms I reflect on the fact that Baby didn't deserve such a merciful end…especially after the bitch was going to bury me alive. Still, I am able to enjoy the irony of her lying dead in the grave that she dug for me, that alone feels pretty fucking fantastic.**

"Well done," Tara murmured, almost oblivious to Willow's efforts to try and move her limp body.

Willow grunted with superhuman effort but could not lift Tara to her feet. She could not bring herself to dwell on Tara's bloody face. The brief glance she had already caught was enough to confirm that Tara had taken a brutal pounding.

"Tara, baby, you've gotta help me here, I can't carry you outta here…can you just try a little for me?" Willow pleaded.

"Sure," Tara whispered.

She willed her legs to move, they jerked a little before working slowly to try and gain a foothold on the ground as Willow continued to lever her upwards. It wasn't so much that her legs weren't working, it was the connection between her legs and her brain that had been completed fried…in fact, the connection between her brain and absolutely everything was fried. Leaning heavily on Willow to the point where she was almost forcing the girl to her knees, Tara finally managed to stand. She was standing in time to see almost a dozen Talbot goons tearing out of the mansion, guns in their hands and faces twisted with fury. They were yelling and cursing as they made their way towards the two women struggling to move. A woman's voice joined them and Tara awkwardly lifted her head to see Glory Talbot standing on a second floor balcony, gripping the railing with both hands.

"You fucking little bitch!" Glory screamed, her voice carrying with its power and fury, "I'm going to make you wish you were never born!"

"Will…what did you do?" Tara asked as Glory's shrill voice rung heavily in her ears.

"I bashed Junior's head in with a poker," Willow admitted quickly, even as she realised they were never going to be able to move fast enough to get over the wall.

Something even louder than Glory's threats drew Willow's attention, a grinding of metal, exploding masonry and screeching of tires. She turned as best she could with Tara in her arms and saw Faith's Oldsmobile being driven straight through the wrought iron gate that protected the entrance. The carnage continued once the car was through the gate as Faith pulled herself out the passenger window and opened up with two guns blazing. Dawn was at the wheel, driving straight towards their friends on the grass.

**As the bullets started to fly I know I am going to die with many regrets…but I also know that Dedara and that snake, Tommy Talbot have not outlived me. They've both gone to the hell they deserve.**

While Willow could clearly see the Oldsmobile screeching towards them, it took both Tara a few moments to realise that they weren't the ones being shot out. When the first of their attackers flew backwards with a bullet in his chest she looked in the same direction as Willow to see a familiar and welcome sight. It was the very same car that had so brazenly held up the prison bus what seemed like an eternity ago. A wild Faith, hair streaming out behind her, had guns in both hands and was plugging goons left, right and centre. Behind the wheel, Dawn steered the car directly in front of Willow and Tara.

The Oldsmobile ground to a halt, carving wide grooves in the manicured lawn. Faith continued to shoot until the last of their pursuers had been hit and was either dead or lying on the ground writhing in pain. She turned to face Willow and Tara, hair wild about her head and fire in her eyes. Holstering her guns, she slid out of the car window and ran to Willow's side. She took Tara's weight from Willow, moving her swiftly towards the back door of the Oldsmobile. Willow opened the door, as she did Faith glanced up and gave her a brief smile.

"I thought Maclay was supposed to be rescuing you?" she asked Willow archly.

"She did rescue me," Willow replied as Faith moved Tara onto the back seat. "Then I had to rescue her…"

Lying back on the leather of the Oldsmobile's back seat, Tara lifted her head at the sound of Willow's words and smiled. Willow went to climb into the back seat with Tara but stopped when she lifted her hand towards her. She was grasping a small cylindrical object which she tried to press into Willow's hand. Accepting it, Willow glanced down to find a small button on top.

"We gotta go!" Faith slammed the flat of her hand down on the roof of the car, she leapt back through the passenger window as several more guards came running from the house.

"Will, sweetie…give that button a jab will you?" Tara whispered.

Willow stood just outside the car and looked from the device in her hand back to the house. Her eyes moved from the rushing goons up to the balcony where Glory Talbot stood, screeching for her dead son. A small smirk crossed Willow's face and with a feeling of immense satisfaction she jammed her thumb down hard on the device's button.

* * *

At that same moment, within the depths of the Talbot mansion, the devices that Tara had placed earlier that evening picked up the trigger that Willow had pressed. Each device gave off a solitary high-pitched bleep, an all too late warning of the fury to follow.

Glory Talbot watched with a manic sort of rage as her men rushed to intercept the car full of whores before they could make good their getaway from right beneath her nose. Already they were firing on the car, bullets pinging off the metal and one shattering the side window. She watched the little redhead bitch duck behind the door and her white-knuckled fists clenched even tighter as she willed the bullets to strike her.

She suddenly felt hot air at the nape of her neck and looked over her shoulder just in time to see a wall of fire cascading towards her. Glory Talbot didn't even have time to scream before the explosion blew her off the balcony and sailing out over her garden.

* * *

Willow felt the intense heat even as she stood behind the Oldsmobile. She watched in gruesome fascination as the Talbot goons were swallowed up within the hungry depths of the fireball and as a single dark object went sailing out from the second floor balcony and came crashing down on the lawn. Although she found it difficult to tear her gaze away, she dimly heard Faith screaming at her to get in the car. She lowered herself on the backseat next to Tara. Faith had taken over from Dawn behind the wheel and she jammed the stick into reverse and gunned the engine.

The Oldsmobile reversed at speed and its occupants felt a sudden jarring as the tyres hit something in their path. Faith then put it in gear and drove forward, a second bump followed before the car went careening out of the gate and off into the night.

"Next stop…home!" Faith announced as she floored the pedal with great gusto.

**As we pull away from the fiery inferno that is the Talbot mansion, I lie back on the leather set and watch the red hot glow of the flames reflected on Willow, her hair, her skin, everything is golden. She must sense me watching and she turns her head to meet my brazen gaze. I can see she's exhausted but she flicks me a little smile that makes me forget my own injuries. The glow fades as the mansion is left far behind us, left to burn itself to the ground and all the pain it holds within it. I know that the cops will arrive pretty damn fast…as soon as they find out their number one source of funding has just gone up in flames. They'll find a smoking, gutted ruin, with the lady of the house lying blackened and very much dead on the front lawn, tyre marks ingrained into her flesh. Baby Dedara will be lying in her grave, a single shot through the head and they'll probably never find anything of little Tommy.**

"You're a mess," Willow whispered as she edged across the wide back seat of the Oldsmobile to kneel on the floor beside Tara's bruised and bloodied face, "What you did…"

Tara's hand darted out surprisingly fast and she pressed a finger to Willow's lips, "Don't even start to thank me kiddo, we're even and that's the end of the story okay?"

Tara let her hand drop to leave Willow free to reply.

"Okay," Willow nodded.

"And those things that Dedara said, about what she did to me in prison," Tara began awkwardly.

"Forgotten already," Willow nodded again.

Tara shook her head insistently. "No, not forgotten…kept between us."

"Okay," Willow felt her voice catch slightly, she reached out and took Tara's hand in her own.

"I want you to know me completely…" Tara whispered as her other hand reached out to cup Willow's cheek and brush away the tears that were welling at the corner of her eye. "Does that scare you?"

"I think maybe that it should," Willow replied. "But I love you…so no."

**I hear those soft words from her lips and I close my eyes, wanting to hold onto them for a little longer before I realise, possibly a little presumptuously, that I'll be hearing them repeated for a long time to come. It's strange concept, making plans for the future but I know I'm not letting this girl go…and planning starts with a nice little hotel somewhere far away from Basin City. I imagine me, Willow, and hot-tub with no clothes in sight.**

"Right back at you, Willow."

**THE END**


End file.
